Heroes of Magic and Might
by jade-fae
Summary: No one knows why it happened, but the castle shook like the fist of an angry titan that night. Now, under the watch of the twin moons, the denizens of Hogwarts must make their way in this new world. Danger and intrigue abound; alliances are made and authorities challenged as everyone tries to assert their will through the powers of magic and might.
1. Prologue

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Prologue

…

Murky and gray, covered in specks of green and small chunks of ice. The salty water of the swamp was very nearly frozen in the winter chill, its heavy saline content being the key factor in resistance.

"There it is!" The water rippled as a trio of bodies moved through it.

"Wicker basket, full of herbs, just like she said." The basket in question sat on the nearly solid water neatly frosted to a patch of reeds and grass. It took a couple tugs before it peeled free.

"Alright, so we know we're in the right place, now what?"

The twin gingers shrugged, "Search us."

"Why? What would I find?"

The twins snickered at his response, "Good one Harry."

"Nice to see you in better humor."

Harry smiled; he was in better humor, despite recent events. Bad as they seemed it was a welcome change from the last few months with Dolores Jane Umbridge; but that didn't bear thinking about.

"We came out here to find the thing that attacked them. Ideas?"

"We could make a lot of noise," said Fred.

"Bright lights and colors," offered George.

"Would help if we knew what we were looking for," said Harry, to which they all nodded.

Four students from Slytherin had wandered out through the woods and into the near frozen swamp. Only one had returned. Somewhere in her incoherent babbling she'd mentioned Snape and herbs as an explanation.

But as to what had taken her three housemates, only frantic eyes and pitiful whimpers.

"Alright, what do we know? They were out here, so it must have been in the water" said Harry.

"It was big enough to take three of them," offered George.

"But quiet enough to get the jump on them," added Fred.

"Am I the only one that suddenly feels very unsafe?"

By the dawning look on the twins faces, he was not.

"Maybe wee…"

"Shh!" Harry cut them off suddenly, "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

A voice, smooth and low, crooning a sinister welcome, "Hello little morsels. How nice of you to come. Oh yes, oh yes, so very nice indeed."

"No joking Harry, it's not funny."

"I'm not joking. You don't hear that voice?" he protested.

The twins looked at each other, then at Harry, "We don't hear anything Harry."

Then why could he? He looked around frantically for the source of the voice which seemed to come from everywhere.

"Familiar. Why does this seem familiar?"

He knew he was missing something obvious. A voice he could hear but no one else could. And he couldn't find it.

"Oh bollocks," now he remembered.

"What?!"

"It's a…"

But before he could finish, Fred was yanked back and thrown into the air by a long thick cord with teeth.

"Snake!"

"Fred!" yelled George as his twin went sailing up into the air without the use of a broom.

"Catch him," shouted Harry, before firing a trio of stunners into the massive serpent who looked to be waiting to swallow the rapidly plummeting ginger down its throat.

The snake hissed angrily at the assault, forgetting its first victim in favor of its assailant.

"It stings! The little morsel stings!"

"I can do a lot more than sting," Harry hissed back.

The snake wavered in surprise, but only for a moment, "It talks as well. Will that change the flavor I wonder?"

Harry scowled. There would clearly be no negotiating with it. Not that he'd really considered that an option, but it was still good to know. He hurled another barrage of stunners which it easily dodged.

"Slippery customer," commented George.

"He's got some moves," agreed Fred, taking advantage of his position to get his own shots in.

The giant snake appeared acutely aware of its surroundings and easily dodged the spells from the wizard floating over its head.

All three wizards took their turns trying to stun the snake. It evaded their sorcery with insulting ease. Seeing stunners were not going to cut it, Harry decided on a different tact and a brilliant gout of flame burst from his wand. The serpent reeled back then retaliated, spewing a concentrated blast of water.

Harry was completely unprepared for this assault and once the spray had gone through his fire it took him square in the chest. The force of the spray knocked him off his feet and into the frigid swamp.

By some miracle he managed to keep his glasses on his face as he sloshed around in the sub-arctic water. His head broke the surface just in time to see another concentrated spray smash through Georges shield. George must have been anticipating it because he vanished a bare instant before the blast would have hit him.

Apparition, "Need to have them teach me that," Harry muttered as he crawled to his feet and prepared to reengage.

"I did not forget about you little morsel," the snake hissed.

Harry braced, ready for another frontal assault. The thing that latched onto his foot came as a total surprise, viciously hoisting him into the air.

"Harry!" two voices called, and he had a brief glimpse of both twins floating above him.

So that's where he went, Harry thought absently as he was flung back and forth by the tail end of the snake while the other followed him with its eyes. Dazed and shaken, Harry refused to give in so when the head moved to strike, he did the only thing his addled mind could think to do. He jabbed his wand, right into its open mouth.

"Ah! Bloody hell!" he exclaimed when the snake clamped down, trapping his wand and the hand holding it.

The snake gave a hissing laugh as it began tugging at both ends, trying to rip Harry apart.

The twins yelled and hurled spells, but the serpent avoided and kept on pulling.

Harry could see his end swiftly approaching if things continued as they were. In desperation he released his wand, un-balling his fist. The snake tugged, and Harry screamed, its teeth raking across his hand as it slid out of serpent's mouth.

Rather than be displeased, the snake cackled, "I have your stinger now little morsel," it taunted.

And Harry was unarmed.

Perhaps it was all the blood rushing to his head, but he didn't feel the panic he thought he ought to. His mind raced but it was all forward at a steady pace; watching the snake distend its jaw, preparing to swallow him whole, he snagged a stray thought as it ran by, and an idea formed.

It could work. The snake was mostly submerged in water which would help, but he didn't have his wand. Did he need it? He remembered casting a spell in a moment of terror and his wand responding. Could he do it again? Did he really have choice?

As the snake made to lower him down its gullet, he reached. He couldn't see his wand, but he swore he could feel it. Focusing on that feeling and the power building at his fingertips he shouted.

"_EXSTATIC_!"

Untold volts leapt from his fingertips and surged downward through the snake. It spasmed hard as the excessive surge ripped through it and Harry was once again dumped in the swamp.

From their vantage point Fred and George watched the massive snake spasm and twitch as it toppled over like a felled tree. Its body lay across the surface of the water still twitching, though by all other measures it was surely dead.

"Bloody hell," they whispered.

Their sense of awe was shattered when Harry surged out of the water.

"Dammit!" he cursed.

"Harry!"

"Didn't think— that through," he shouted as he spasmed and twitched.

Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it really was 'that' funny. Either way, while Harry danced in the frigid swamp the twins rolled around in the air laughing.

"Oh, think it's— funny— do ya? Why don't ya— come down—here and— laugh!"

When their hovering charms wore off, they did precisely that. Then it was Harry's turn to laugh.

"Hahaha— haha— hahaha— ha!"

"Spose we had that coming."

"That we did."

Soaked, shocked but still alive they all had a good laugh at their situation till the chill really began to sink in.

After a liberal use of drying and warming charms they tied a rope around their catch and began dragging it back to Hogwarts; all thirty odd feet of it.

Hagrid would surely love to see it, whatever it was. Out of everyone at Hogwarts he had been the most optimistic about their situation. Harry thought he understood. Hagrid was a hardy sort; he could survive anywhere. And a brand-new world meant every manner of strange new and dangerous creatures to see.

When you looked at it that way, it made perfect sense.


	2. Chapter 1

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 01 – Day in the life

…

Morning. Morning should not be allowed to start until the sun was up.

Harry lay, still as the dead, laid out on one of the couches in the common room when morning arrived. Dragging his carcass up to his bed the previous night had seemed to arduous a task, so It was there the twins found him, at approximately four o' clock, and began prodding him awake despite his protestations.

"Come on Harry."

"Time to get up."

Couldn't be. The sun wasn't even up, and his body said it was still time to sleep. Besides, the lead blanket he was under didn't feel like moving so why should he?

"Come on Harry."

"Breakfast is waiting."

It could keep waiting too. He didn't want to get up. If he got up it meant he'd have to do things and he didn't want to do things, he wanted to sleep.

As usual, it didn't seem to matter what he wanted, and their prodding continued. With a grumble and a groan, he rolled over and slowly sat up, blinking the blur from his eyes; and when that didn't work, fumbling around for his glasses.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Morning," the twins echoed quietly.

He glared up at the smirking gingers, "Thanks."

Trudging out of the tower behind a pair of lights, Harry creaked and cracked his body into something like an upright position. Every sound echoed in the dark empty halls. The sconces sat dark and empty on the walls; the magic that powered them gone.

Likewise, the stairs, once so playful and lively, sat quiet, unmoving, like stairs should. It was so weird.

That's how things had been since, the incident. Everything that had been magical, wasn't. The sconces didn't light, brooms didn't fly, stairs remained perfectly still. It was all so strange, at least from the perspective of those who had lived there for more than a couple years.

The halls were empty, unsurprising at four in the morning. Less surprising still when one knew the prefects had ceased roaming the halls at night. Even Filch was sluffing, though that may have been less dereliction of duty and more survival instinct.

They passed the library on their way to the kitchen and briefly peaked inside. A light in a back corner burned bright and the sound of someone turning pages echoed in the emptiness.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, shaking his head.

She'd hardly left the library since they arrived. The few times anyone had tried to approach her she'd nearly bit their heads off. People had quickly stopped trying.

The portrait that once served as the door to the kitchen sat to the side of the entrance; a warm cheery light beaming out into the hall. The sounds of cooking poured out, as though a small legion of chef's were hard at work. They walked in and greeted them.

" "Good morning ladies!" "

"Good morning Professor Sprout. Good morning Professor Babbage."

Despite the noise it was not a legion but two witches manning the kitchen. The small legion that had once been responsible were no longer there. Like the ghosts who had vanished without a trace, the house elves had failed to make the trip.

"Good morning boys!" said Professor Sprout with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at four in the morning.

"Ave' a seat lads, it's almost ready."

Gladly following the direction of the professor he'd never had, Harry plopped down in the nearest chair, the twins following with a bit more dignity, damn them.

"So, what's on the docket for today?" queried Fred.

"Usual," said Harry, "Practice, Hagrid, whatever you blokes got."

His mornings were routine now after nearly three weeks, it was the afternoons were things got exhausting, depending on what the twins were working on. There were a lot of problems that needed to be solved, and as far as they could tell, no one else was working on them, nor working at all.

Sprout and Babbage, along with Hagrid, were the only members of the staff that seemed to be doing anything to address the situation. The others were all there, they'd seen them at the beginning, even that loathsome toad Umbridge. But since then, not a word, not a sign. Everyone assumed they were doing something important, everyone assumed.

Harry didn't like to assume. Particularly not after the year he'd been having. He'd believe it when he saw it.

"Tuck in boys."

Breakfast was a simple affair, porridge and eggs. Yet another problem that needed to be addressed. The elves had apparently just stocked the larder, but, that stocking was likely something they did on a regular basis. Food was being rationed, and no one was happy. Ron in particular had been very vocal until his brothers took him aside and 'corrected' his attitude.

Harry couldn't feel too sorry for him. They were in a dire situation and starving to death was a very real concern. The food they had needed to last. How long was hard to say. It was still winter, though by Hagrid's estimation the tail end of winter. Harry had no idea how he would know that, but the big man pointed out a dozen little things Harry would never have otherwise noticed that told him spring was on the way.

That at least was good news. Spring meant growth, meant the ground would thaw and they could plant things. Sprout had mentioned a secret seed cache' she kept, and Harry had little doubt by the time they got anything into the ground, people would be hungry enough to eat it, no matter what it might be. Harry was already to that point.

He tried not to inhale his food like a Ron, but his exhaustion fed his hunger; just not in a way that made him full, and before he knew it his bowl was empty, and he only slightly less so.

He sighed; it would have to do. He'd suffered depravation before. This was nothing.

waving a slightly less lethargic goodbye to the kitchen witches he made for his special classroom. He'd set it up to practice, once it became clear the Room of Requirement was just as unmagical as the rest of the castle. Working around a thousand years of accumulated junk seemed a bit hazardous.

Letting the door close behind him he soaked in the silence. It was different than the silence in the halls that seemed to echo the length of them. This was a still silence. It seemed better somehow, less foreboding. Possibly it just reminded him of his cupboard which had been a safe place despite it also serving as a sort of prison for many years.

He lay his wand on a shelf near the door before striding to a circle cut into the floor at the far end of the room. He took a deep breath, stretched his neck, then vanished with the barest hint of a crack. Reappearing in another room, in another circle, he took a brief look around then vanished again. He did this several times, popping from room to room all over the castle.

The twins had taught him to apparate after the giant snake incident; which only made it the second biggest snake he'd ever seen, and he'd been practicing daily ever since. Practice was important he'd come to realize after his work with the DA, and he'd little reason to use this particular skill on a daily basis otherwise.

Coming to an end back where he started, he took a moment to catch his breath before moving on with the rest of his exercises. The harder ones.

He stared at the bucket, stared like he loved it, like he hated it, like it was the only thing in the world. It shook a bit, tilted a little to one side. Stopping, he gasped for air but continued to glare at the bucket.

Wandless magic; a step up from silent casting which the twins had been learning and he'd gotten the abridged version of when they taught him to apparate. To say it was difficult would be an understatement; few wizards were known to do any magic without a wand. But he was going to do it. He had done it, in moments of desperation. Now he just needed to figure out how to do it when his life wasn't in danger.

Progress was slow.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," he incanted.

This time the bucket noticeable moved, lifting just off the ground before banging back to the floor. It was progress. When he'd started, he couldn't even do that much.

"You will lift, dammit. I don't care how long I have to stare at you. _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The heat of his stare, intense as it was, seemed more likely to set it on fire than make it go up. He'd yet managed to do that either; so, for the next hour he stared, hands behind his back, willing the bucket off the ground. Three inches was his reward which some may have found depressing. Harry just stared, took a deep breath, and staggered a little as he left the room.

He staggered a little more when he was attacked from behind, a pair of arms wrapping around his torso preventing his escape. He'd been expecting it, sort of. She was surprisingly regular for such an irregular girl.

"Good morning Luna."

She didn't answer right away, just rubbed her face against his back. He let her do it. He didn't know what had happened to her but ever since they'd arrived, she'd become very openly affectionate, at least with him.

"Good morning Harry. Did you sleep well?"

"Right up till Fred and George woke me up."

"And what are you doing today?" she asked, big eyes beaming with curiosity.

"Wood with Hagrid, then see what the twins are up to. After that, who knows," he sure didn't.

"It's very exciting isn't it," she said like she really meant it.

"Brand new adventure every day," he said with far less enthusiasm.

She frowned at his lack of enthusiasm but then smiled and hugged him again. Walking away he found a slight spring in his step. Where had that come from?

Well, regardless, he would certainly use it. Hagrid was waiting for him out by their ever-growing wood pile, sharpening his axe. He waved when he saw Harry and set the axe aside, "Mornin Arry!"

"Morning Hagrid."

Without preamble he grabbed a great length of rope the two men headed for the forest. Not the old dark forest but a whole new one, stretching out for as far as they eye could see. It was nothing like the old wood that had been outside Hogwarts, except in that it was 'wood'. The trees were nowhere near as tall, or dark, or oppressive. It was about as normal a forest as one could get.

Or so Harry assumed, not having a lot of experience with forests outside the dark and spooky kind.

"Got some spring in yer step there," Hagrid observed with a knowing grin. "Oo'd you see this mornin?"

"Luna," Harry said, refusing to be baited. "Any sign of Dumbledore," he countered.

"Ah, not as yet," the big man sighed. "Reckon ee's still tryin to figure out ow we got eer."

"You think he will?"

The expected response, great wizard Dumbledore, didn't come, which surprised Harry. The big man looked thoughtful; eyes nearly hidden behind the bushy kneaded brow. "I don't know Arry. If anyone can iss Dumbledore, but…"

The 'but' hung heavy between them. "Don't suppose it matters much to you does it."

"What chu mean?"

"Well, here we are, brand new world, brand new creatures, and no Ministry around to stop you from keeping whatever, 'cuddly' pets you want."

"You teasin me Arry?"

"Me!"

The exclamation made Hagrid chuckle and he playfully elbowed the boy, which knocked him off his feet, but it was alright. It was his own fault and he laughed it off like it was intended.

"Spose yur not wrong," Hagrid admitted as they came to the edge of the forest. "Every time I look out eer, it's like I can see'em, just out of sight, hidin in there, waitin fur me. If I could, I'd take me a good long walk, I would. But…"

There it was again, 'but'. "But you can't, because we need you here."

"Aye." Childlike though he seemed at times, there was a great sense of responsibility in Hagrid. He'd die before he abandoned them, Harry had no doubt. "Maybe, once we got a good mount a wood set aside. Maybe then, take a little walk, see what's round."

"Swamp off in that direction," said Harry, indicating the frozen marsh he, Fred and George had been to not a week earlier.

"Mm, probly more to see once things thaw bit. Bah! That's fur later. Bes get ta work."

That was Harry's cue and he stepped to it without pause. His cutting spell, one he'd learned since their arrival, made short work of the towering timbers. A full dozen were dropped, pruned, and lifted onto Hagrid's rope which he then tied tight around them. A quick hovering charm and they headed back, Hagrid pulling the floating logs and Harry following behind in case his spell failed.

It never had, but by this point it was habit and not of the bad variety. Dropping their load, Harry took the first tree and mounted it on the sawhorses. Rather than throwing more cutters, he retrieved the previous days wreathes.

Before they'd been nothing but clumps of old leaves, now they were saw blades; turned to iron with a third-year transfiguration and motivated by a small cluster of spells from the first and second-year charms books. Levitation, rotation, and acceleration got the blades up and spinning and then it was just a matter of keeping it up while they segmented the tree.

It had been harder at first, being unable to hold more than one at a time but with a bit of practice he'd gotten up to three, then four, then six. He was pretty sure he could get it up to eight soon, but he was in no rush. Six did the job quick enough and it didn't tire him out like lobbing cutters did.

He'd learned that the first day after almost passing out from exhaustion, which was what motivated him to get creative with the wreath blades.

The first one done, he piled them for Hagrid who took his axe and went to it, putting his magnificent muscles to work while Harry stretched his magical ones and carried on with the next.

Hagrid was just finishing up the first tree by the time Harry had finished sawing the last of them. Collecting his own axe, he pulled out some of the smaller pieces and went to work himself. He wasn't as fast as Hagrid, not even close, but he refused to let Hagrid do all the hard work without doing at least a little himself.

He'd regret it an hour later as he always did. But not enough to stop him from doing it again the next day. The problem was that Harry, though less pitiful and stringy than he had been at eleven, was by no means a muscular sort. He was sure Ron had more muscle than he did despite far less effort. He was certain Fred and George did as well, but they also had at least six inches on him so that may have been part of it.

He was stretching out his back when a basket came floating down and they stopped for lunch. It was impossible for the understaffed kitchen to personally deliver their lunch, and no one else seemed available to jump in and assist.

It annoyed him more than a little. What was everyone doing that was so important?

After lunch he set up a few more then blasted through them with his cutter before loading up his little sled. It was a cobbled together bit a junk Hagrid had thrown together which he was too polite not to use.

He left the sled just inside the doors, levitating two stacks, one for the kitchen and one for Gryffindor tower, leaving the other three for Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. He didn't know where they were, except Slytherin, and he wasn't about to go down there.

Making his deliveries he gave a longing look at the couch but forced himself back out and to the library. Much as he would have preferred to just lie down for an hour, or eight, there was work to be done.

He found the twins in a corner opposite Hermione who didn't so much as look up when he walked by. "Wotcher boys."

" "Harry," " they parroted.

"Just the bloke we wanted to see."

"Expected you might say."

Uh oh, "Should I be worried?"

" "Always." "

Something he really should have known by that point, "Alright, what ya got?"

"Here, have a drink," said Fred, offering him a bottle labeled Sherry.

"Is this…"

"One of Trelawney's? Probably. Don't let the label fool you. Drink."

Reluctantly he did as told, surprised by what he found, "Water."

The twins nodded.

"Where'd you get it."

"From the blocked off dock."

The little dock under the castle that had once connected to the lake was now blocked in by a wall of stone. Whatever force had relocated the castle had done so within certain physical parameters, placing them whole into the side of a mountain. It was fortunate that Hagrid had been in the hospital wing that night after a rough play with Grawp, or he'd have been left behind.

"Are you telling me I'm drinking lake water?" Harry asked, ready to puke if necessary.

The twins, seeing his revulsion laughed. "Doesn't taste like it."

"But it is."

"Explain," he said, though what he meant was, explain or I'm going to hex you to pieces.

They seemed to understand that and rushed to obey.

"We've been working on the water problem."

"Only got so much and with all the people in the castle it's gonna run out quick."

"Can't drink conjured water."

"Can't drink swamp water either, not like it is."

"Solution?"

"Purification!"

"So, this is lake water, but purified?"

The twins nodded. "Perfectly drinkable, we tried it ourselves."

Harry looked at the Sherry bottle skeptically then shrugged. "If you say so. How many more of these can we fill."

"Don't need to," said Fred.

"We did some work," added George.

"Space expansion. The Sherry was cheap, but the bottle was good quality. We got half the harbor in just that one. Emptied it out with this one," said Fred, presenting a second with a stopper on it and an odd funnel contrivance with some sort of mesh bulb.

"This is our purifier. We're working on a second so we can go back to the swamp and fill up a few more."

"Do it tomorrow," said Harry. "What else?"

"Pulled something interesting out of the lost shelves."

Lost shelves; fabled hidden library of Hogwarts. In fact, yet another dumping ground; this one specifically for books. Whatever it may have once been; when the magic cut out and the twins were able to find it, it was little more than a collection of heavy laden and unorganized shelves stuffed between trunk upon trunk of donated books.

"What's this then?" asked Harry.

"It's called enhancement magic," said George.

"Written by some Asian guy, Japanese maybe. Anyway, it's all about fortifying objects."

"Useful. You use that one the Sherry bottles?"

"Nope," they said.

"We could have."

"Just didn't think we needed to."

"And that's not what we wanted to show you anyway."

"Oh?"

"Here," said Fred, opening to a marked page and handing him the book.

Harry read quickly and couldn't resist a grin. Human physical enhancement. It was an in-depth explanation, no incantations or wand work, purely internal magic, like apparating.

"Thought that might help with your little side project."

The twins were the only people who knew he was trying to teach himself wandless magic, as well as, "Any sign of that animagus book?"

"Sorry."

"Not yet."

"Ah well." If worst came to worst, he'd ask McGonagall whenever she surfaced. "Mind if I hang onto this for a bit?"

" "Go ahead," " they said with a shrug.

"We don't really need it."

"Bring it back when you're done."

Taking his new book, he returned to his private classroom to study. resisting the urge to just jump right in he forced himself to start at the beginning of the book and read it the whole way through. It was full of diagrams and terminology he didn't recognize, only some of which were explained in any detail. There was a time when he would have given up or asked Hermione for help; option two was out of the question and he refused to even entertain option one.

Leaving the book half finished, he stumbled down to the kitchen already half asleep. He yawned through a spartan dinner then slouched up to Gryffindor tower, aiming for his bed, only to be intercepted in the common room.

"Haaaaaarrrrrrry!"

They crooned his name in unison like a chorus of angels; in truth they were more like devils. He groaned a weary groan; they tittered at such pitiful resistance.

"We've been waiting for you Harry."

In their skimpy little bathrobes, he doubted it was long. The castle wasn't warm enough to be so underdressed, even in the common room where the fire burned with cheery warmth.

"Come on Harry," said Lavender, latching onto his right arm.

"You know what we want," said Parvati, taking his left.

"Please," begged the first-year girls in adorable unison; they were getting good at that.

They all cheered when he sighed in defeat and trudged up to the third-floor girls' bath.

"You're the best Harry."

Best sucker.

"You're the only one who knows how to do it just right."

Or the only one you can sucker into doing it every night.

"Nothing like a nice hot bath after a long day."

I wouldn't know.

It was a pointless exercise in his opinion, but they claimed he was the only one who could conjure water hot enough for a proper bath. He didn't believe them, but by the time he made it back to the tower he was generally too tired to fight it, so up he went to fill their tubs and drain what little vitality he had left before staggering back down to the common room.

He glanced at the stairs, then the window near them where two moons shone brightly in the evening sky. With a groan and a shrug, he staggered to the nearest couch, collapsing into a heavy sleep on the cushy bit of furniture where he would still be the next morning when Fred and George woke him to start the routine all over again.


	3. Chapter 2

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 02 – House cleaning

…

Darkness and stone. A nondescript wall in a nondescript hall; poorly lit, it should not have been there. They'd been working on it for two hours with little progress and they were beginning to get discouraged. The two of them, in a darkened hall, alone…

"You're sure this is it?"

"You were the one that said it was here."

"Yeah but you agreed with me."

Or so they thought.

"Agreed with what?"

They yelped, falling all over each other, scrambling about like startled squirrels. Harry resisted the urge to chuckle; so nice to be on the other end of that for once.

"When did you get here?" the girl demanded.

"And why are you so quiet?" the boy quailed.

"I'm wearing my sneakers today," he said with a roguish grin he meant to be reassuring. They replied with a weak laugh. "So, what are you two up to."

The pair looked at each other, uncertainty writ clear across their faces. For a moment he wondered if he'd intruded on something personal till the girl spoke.

"Did you know this castle is a thousand years old?"

"Uh, yeah, about that."

"Ya ever think it felt smaller than it looked like from the outside?" asked the boy.

Not really, "What are you getting at?"

Bouncing to her feet, "We have concluded there are parts of the castle that have been sealed off!"

She clearly meant her declaration to be some great revelation, but he was Harry Potter. He usually wound up some place he wasn't meant to be at least once a year. "Why?" he asked anyway, just to play along.

"Space reasons probably," said the boy, dusting himself off. "Did you know student enrollment is the lowest it's been in three hundred years?"

"I did not," though he could certainly think of a few reasons for it.

"Yeah, we figure they just sealed off a few parts of the castle they didn't need so they wouldn't have to waste all the time cleaning them," said the boy reasonably.

"Or they had something in them they didn't want anyone to see," interjected the girl.

The boy sighed, "She thinks we're going to find some long-lost treasure."

"There is treasure, I know it! I can smell it!"

"What's it smell like?" Harry chuckled.

"GOLD!"

Harry shook his head and laughed; the younger boy just sighed. "So that's all behind this wall is it?"

The wall was plain, unassuming gray brick. Indistinguishable from any other wall save perhaps for its somewhat peculiar placement, and a number of small pockmarks marring its surface.

"You do this?"

"We haven't made much progress," said the boy.

"I will admit, our blasters aren't as strong as I'd hoped," said the girl, hanging her head.

"Blaster's? Where'd you two learn that?"

"Library," they said in unison.

Fair enough. That's where he'd learned it. "Is that how you got the scratch on your cheek."

The boy, with the noticeable red line on his face blushed and nodded. "We didn't expect the shrapnel. That was stupid on our part."

"I said I was sorry," the girl mumbled.

"I think you might be better served attacking this from a different angle," said Harry.

"How?"

Drawing his wand, he conjured up the vision in his mind and with a silent swish, turned a doorway sized section of the wall into sand which sloshed to the floor like water, opening a hole in the wall which expelled a strange and somewhat noxious scent.

"Ew! What died in there?" the girl squealed.

"Stale air," said the boy from behind his sleeve. "Didn't know it was gonna be this bad."

"Wish I knew the bubble head charm," Harry coughed.

" "What's that?" "

…

"Harry!" cried Fred.

"And friends," added George.

The two second years hid behind Harry from the over exuberant Weasley twins. "Gent's, this is Dakota Jones, and Laurel Croft," Harry introduced.

The two children waved nervously.

"Collecting minions Harry?"

"Oh, don't even joke about that," Harry groaned. "Next they'll be blaming me for us being here. All part of my master plan to become the next dark lord."

" "Hail his mighty evil!" " the twins proclaimed.

"KEEP IT DOWN!"

The whole group flinched at the horrible shriek from the far corner of the library.

"She's getting worse," whispered George.

"Gonna snap and kill us all," agreed Fred.

Harry said nothing, but that didn't stop him from thinking a good number of things.

"You lads happen to know where we can find the bubblehead charm?" he asked.

"Going swimming?"

Harry shook his head at the incredulous look, "Exploring sealed places, full of stinky stale air."

"Anywhere we know about?"

Harry shrugged, he hadn't.

"We're looking for the entrance to the old North tower; not the one that's there now but the one that used to be there, the one they tore down most of," said Dakota, timidly coming out from behind Harry.

"She thinks there's treasure," added Laurel, holding his position behind Harry to save him from her scowl.

Snickering behind his hand, "Yeah, I think I know where that one is. Come on." Motioning for them to follow, George moved off into the library, leaving Harry and Fred.

"Where'd you find these two? Their adorable."

They were a bit, "Heard a loud noise, went to check and found them arguing."

"You think their right?"

"Bout what?"

"Treasure."

Harry shrugged, "Could be. Lot of places no one's seen in some time thanks to the magic hiding them. Now that it isn't, well, if everyone didn't seem to be hiding in their dorms…"

Fred nodded; it was a complaint they all shared. With few exceptions, everyone was just sitting around, puttering away their time, waiting for someone else to solve the problem. It felt just like every other year he'd been at Hogwarts.

"Speaking of hiding, I's just thinking."

"Uh oh, get the splatter shield."

Fred grinned at his teasing, "It warms my heart to know we're being such a bad influence on you," he said. "But seriously, hidden places, what about the Chamber of secrets."

He'd thought of that himself. "Wonder if it made the trip. I'm pretty sure it was under the lake, and we know that didn't come along."

"Mostly."

"Yeah, mostly," which did make one wonder. "I am a little curious now you mention it. I wonder if that basilisk is still down there."

"Basilisk?"

Harry smiled a bit at Fred's reaction, "It's dead. Promise." The assurance didn't seem to ease his discomfort.

"Yeah, well, probably need to plan this one. Wouldn't do to go dungeon diving unprepared."

There was sense to the idea, and the more Harry thought about it the more he wanted to do it. What he didn't want was to bring along a lot of people. But that didn't stop the sizable group from assembling three days later in the former girl's bathroom.

"Good grief."

The twins had been recruiting. Not hard, with no one doing anything, but still, there had to be at least twenty people milling around, only half of which Harry recognized. One in particular surprised him.

"Well, well, look who decided to leave the chess board for a while," he said.

Ron threw him a weak scowl, "Never thought I'd get tired of playing chess," he said.

"Never thought you'd get to spend days on end doing nothing else either I'd wager," said Harry.

"Nope," Ron agreed. "Never thought we'd be going back down there either."

"You and me both," Harry sighed, remembering all to clearly the circumstances of their last visit. "Where is Fred?"

George was present, sitting on the sink above where he knew the entrance to be, waiting just as impatiently as the rest.

"Oy, George, where's Fred?" Ron asked.

"He said Susan needed to ask him something," said twin one. "Didn't think it'd take this long."

They were spared the effort of further speculation and impugning of Fred's character when the missing twin arrived, followed by Susan Bones, and another girl it took Harry a moment to recognize. Little surprise as he'd never made any great effort to learn the names of the Slytherin's that didn't regularly antagonize him.

"Fred, Susan," he greeted coolly. "Explain," he said, giving the girl with the green tie a pointed look.

Fred held up his hands and backed away, "Don't look at me, this is all her."

Rolling her eyes at how quickly she was thrown under the thestral drawn carriage, Susan put on her sweetest smile and calmly invaded Harry's personal space, "Harry," she cooed.

"Susan," he said, trying not to think about the warm squishiness pressing against his chest.

"Now I know you're not going to be all close minded about this Harry," she said, batting her eyelashes.

"Will if I wanna be," he mumbled stubbornly, trying not to be drawn into those fluttering eyes.

"Harry!" she whined.

That was too much. His hands gripped her shoulders and he gently moved her to one side, "Ron, hold this please."

"Sure thing," said the ginger, wrapping his arms around the bouncy Hufflepuff.

"Oh really," she said with a put-upon sigh, but making no effort to escape.

"Alright, I'll make this simple," he said, stepping up to the Slytherin girl, "why are you here?"

She gave an artistic shrug, "Why are any of us here?"

Sarcasm. Should've expected that, "Okay. Why should I take you with us?"

"Charming company."

"We already got that," said Ron, still holding Susan who grinned wickedly.

Ron yelped in surprise while Harry groaned in aggravation, "You know you're not helping your case being difficult like this," he growled.

Looking surprised, she blushed at his admonition, "Sorry," she said, surprising him. "Can we start over?"

Now it was his turn to shrug, "Alright."

Taking a deep breath, "I've been studying enchantments since I was little. My uncle worked for Gringotts for years before he died, and he taught me a lot. I'm sure I could be of use."

"Kay," interesting information, "but that doesn't tell me why you want to come along."

A genuine smile spread across her face, "It's the Chamber of secrets. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you'd seen the thing that used to live down there," said the man that had.

Undeterred, "Am I going to have to paw all over you like Susan did? I will you know."

He might just let her too, he thought, just then realizing the girl from the house he greatly disliked was actually rather attractive. Before he'd much time to ponder the idea, a tugging at his sleeve drew his attention to another attractive female, this one with which he was better acquainted, "Yes Luna?"

"I think you should let her come," said the big-eyed blonde.

"I don't, yeep!"

"Hush luv," said Susan to a madly blushing Ron.

Harry looked at Luna, wondering at her reasoning. Her face gave away nothing and for some reason he felt it would be wrong to ask. Letting out a defeated sigh, "Fine."

Susan's grin was especially smug, "I told you he'd come around Daphne."

"Daphne? … Greengrass!" he declared.

The aforementioned girl gaped, "You seriously didn't remember my name?"

Harry shrugged, not the least bit penitent, "You're not constantly in my face like certain other people. Makes you less memorable."

The girl pouted briefly before a wicked grin lit her lips and she stepped up to the green-eyed Gryffindor, nose to nose, "I'll have to remember that." Flipping her hair as she brushed past him, the act was annoying and at the same time alluring, made the more so by the way she swung her hips.

"Hey Harry…"

"Shhhhhh! I'm thinking," he said, eyes fixed.

"Big head or little head?"

His friends question forced him to look up and Ron smirked victoriously. "What was all that yelping about?" And suddenly Ron wasn't smirking anymore.

Resisting a smirk of his own, Harry strode to the appropriate sink and called the group to attention, "Listen up everyone. Before we open it up, I just want to say something." Waiting till he was sure he had everyone's attention, "Assuming the chamber made the trip with everything intact, we're going to have a bit of walking to do. The last time I was down there, I fought a serpent big enough to swallow me whole without much trouble. So, when we find the corpse, or whatever may be left of it, I'd just like to ask that anyone who feels the need to scream, please don't do it in my ear."

A round of laughter circled the room but died quickly when they saw his stone-faced expression. The mood set, Harry leaned over the sink, found the little snake, and focused.

"Open!" he hissed and waited for a response.

"Nothing happened," said Ron after a minute.

Harry sighed. "Didn't really expect it would," he admitted, "but I had to try."

Drawing his wand, he began a semi-complex transfiguration, moving the sink, pipes, and wall till the hole revealed the slide beneath, just as he remembered. Standing to his right, Ron looked uneasy.

"We're really doing this?"

Harry nodded, hiding his own uneasiness, "Really are."

"Who's going first?"

Luna was going first, because she gave them no time to stop her.

"Weeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Looney that one," said Ron, which forced Harry to smack him.

"Luna! You okay?" He shouted down the hole.

"It's very dark down here," she called back.

Chuckling at her irreverence, "Alright, let's go. One at a time, count to five before you follow," and with that, he disappeared down the chute.

Luna was right, it was dark, and for whatever reason, she had yet to start a light, so Harry arrived in near pitch blackness. "Luna?"

"I'm here," said a voice in the dark.

"But where?" he asked, fumbling around.

"This way."

Staggering in the blackness, he stumbled into something that gave a little under his weight. Feeling with his hands, he found something fuzzy, and slightly squishy. "Luna?"

"Mm, yes."

Was she moaning, "Luna, what am I grabbing?" he asked, continuing to do so despite his better judgement.

"… nothing."

It most certainly wasn't nothing, and a brilliant light from his wand revealed just how not nothing it was. He removed his hand.

"Aw."

Sigh, "Luna."

"Look out below! Oof!" Ron's appearance on the scene interrupted the moment and Harry peeled himself off Luna to help his friend out of the way as the next person came sliding down.

"That was a bloody long way down," someone said once they were all assembled.

"And it only goes deeper," said Harry. "Everyone, partner up."

Ron, unsurprisingly, jumped up next to Harry before anyone else could. This earned him a few glares, but it was only a moment before everyone was paired off. The twins had paired, no surprise, and Luna had joined Daphne Greengrass and was standing at the head of the line, just behind he and Ron.

Even more curious now to know her angle he stifled the urge and turned his attention to the dark. "Everyone, follow me, carefully. Things were a little unstable the last time and there's no telling what might have shifted since."

The group followed in near silence, the excitement of adventure tempered by rational, and irrational fear. Harry was mostly unbothered walking the oddly familiar path. He'd tried not to even think of the place since he'd gotten out when he was twelve yet his feet led him unerringly, first to the old snake skin which lay exactly where it had the last time and caused two of the weaker ones to pass out; then to the collapsed ceiling which he transfigured into a strong arch, clearing the way and reinforcing the tunnel.

It was between their and the doorway to the chamber itself that a murmur rose as the group began talking in hushed whispers. Some less hushed and easier heard than others.

"Lovegood, why did you say he should bring me along?" Harry pretended not to listen as Daphne voiced the question, he himself had been wondering since she'd tugged on his sleeve.

"He doesn't hate you, you know," was the non-sequitur she decided to go with. "He's just had so much experience with Slytherin, and all of it bad. It's hard for him to imagine you being different."

It was kind of annoying how easily she hit the nail on the head. Even more annoying that she seemed to understand him better than he did, as he hadn't even thought that deeply about why he'd distrusted Daphne the moment he saw the green tie. Annoyed him very much, so much he decided to really shock them, shock them in a way no giant snake ever would.

"You know the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," he said, glancing back at the two blondes, one of whom went slack jawed until the person behind her collided with her back.

"Wait, wait, wait!" she demanded, bringing the whole line to a halt. "You're joking right? The hat wanted to put you in Slytherin?"

"That's right."

Her surprised shock turned to cynical disbelief, "Very funny Potter."

"It's not a joke."

"Oh really? Well if the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, why aren't you?"

"I asked it not to."

"Why?"

"He's about yay high, prettier than any boy should be, answers to the name Draco."

Once again Daphne stared, "Your telling me that, that… OBNOXIOUS PONCE, is the reason we didn't get Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded, "Pretty much."

"That… that is so unfair!"

Harry gave a derisive snort. "Unfair? Yeah, story of my life," he said, walking away, leaving Daphne to gape at his back.

"Were you serious about that mate?" asked Ron when they'd gone a little way.

"You've seen him. Tell me he wouldn't make a cute girl."

"What? No, no, not that part. Gah, now I'm thinking about it; damn you Harry!"

Harry laughed at his friend's mental conundrum. He'd meant to shock Daphne and Luna, not considering how Ron might find that little truth. "Yes, the hat did say I'd do well in Slytherin, and Draco was the main reason I asked it not to. That was before I knew about Snape of course."

"Cor! Hadn't even thought a that."

"Yeah, can you imagine. Me, in Snape's house."

"You wouldn't have lasted a week."

"I think you would have looked nice in green."

"No he wouldn't!"

Ron glared at Luna who didn't even seem to notice as she directed her big-eyed stare at Harry. Harry shook his head at the quirky Ravenclaw, it was just like her to say something like that. He noticed Daphne was staring as well, though hers was less of the big-eyed and more of the concerned sort.

He'd meant to shock her. Mission accomplished.

"Damn that is ugly," said Ron.

The group came to a halt before the serpentine door that led into the chamber proper. The round door, covered in snakes, made no more move to open than had the sink when Harry hissed at it.

"Figures," he cursed. "Think we can transfigure it?"

"I doubt it," said Daphne, tapping the metal with her wand. "This looks like Orichalcum. The amount of power it would have taken to enchant this, it's just staggering."

"But we don't want to enchant it," said Ron, like he was explaining something to an idiot, "we just want to move it."

The Slytherin gave the Gryffindor a baleful look, "Perhaps I was being too subtle for you to understand," she said, "so I'll try to simplify. All of us put together couldn't put enough magic into this thing to move it one inch. Understand."

Ron balked at the condescending tone but before he could retort, Harry cut in, "So the unlocking charm is out of the question."

"I think it depends on the answer," said Luna.

Daphne shook her head at the odd girl, "No, even if it weren't Orichalcum I don't think the standard unlocker would work on this door."

Probably not, otherwise why go to all the trouble. "What about the walls? This thing probably extends into them a ways, but how far?"

Looking thoughtful, Daphne tapped her wand against the wall directly off the door. Pausing a moment, she took a step to the side and repeated the process for several feet. Four feet from the door she stopped, tapped the same spot twice.

"Hmm, interesting." Taking another step, she tapped the wall again, nodded, the drew a long vertical gouge in the wall. "Here."

Harry didn't think he needed to ask what she meant, drawing his own wand down the small line she'd made broke off a much larger gouge which fell to the floor as sand. About to open the wall up, he paused and looked back at the crowd. "Dakota, Laurel."

The two adventurous second years, the youngest members of the group, scurried up. "Yeah!" exclaimed Dakota with barely restrained excitement.

"You been working on your transfiguration?" The pair nodded, and Harry stood back from the wall. "Open'er up."

Beaming like it was Christmas the two children went to work. Opening a huge hole in the wall while simultaneously creating a large pile of sand. Harry stood back watching and occasionally moving the sand out of the way.

"You could do that a lot faster," said Ron, impatiently standing next to Harry.

"Yep," said Harry, waving his wand and another pile of sand out of the way.

"So why don't you."

Harry didn't answer that, not for lack of a reason but a failure of words to properly explain. Sure, he could have done it himself, and faster, and neater, but so what. It would be easy for him, hardly an accomplishment. For Dakota and Laurel however, it was experience, a chance to use the magic they'd been learning to actually do something.

He hadn't wanted to start Dumbledore's army; hadn't wanted to teach people; hadn't felt qualified. But he'd learned, maybe more than anyone he'd taught. He'd learned the value of practice, something he hadn't done much before. But even more importantly; he'd learned the value of experience, better even than practice, just go out and do it.

He wasn't sure what it was about the adventurous pair but something in him wanted to encourage them. He wondered if that wasn't what it felt like to be a big brother. Had Bill or Charley done such things for their younger siblings? He was almost certain the twins hadn't, and Percy… well, he was Percy.

"We're through!"

Harry shone a light into the little tunnel just as the last layer of stone slid away and the Chamber of secrets was open again. A chill ran down his spine, but he ignored it, stepping carefully through the new entrance, past the grinning children, and into the room where he'd murdered a memory.

"Blimey!" Ron whispered, coming through after him and getting his first look. "Just… Blimey!"

"You have a way with words Ron."

"Can we come in?" asked Dakota.

Shaking off his stupor, "Everyone in, but stay together. This place is huge, and we don't want to lose anyone."

It didn't look as though it would be a concern. Outside of the two pairs already inside, the rest of the group came through huddled nervously together, even the twins were looking around like they expected monsters to jump out of ever shadow, of which there were a great deal with all the lights they were waving around.

"Which way?"

Surveying the darkness, he tried to remember. He walked out into the chamber and everyone followed. Massive as it was it didn't take long to find the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin. And not far from that, the remains of his monster.

"Oh, sweet Merlin!" someone exclaimed, followed by the sound of passing out.

"That thing is huge!"

"What the hell is something like that doing in a school!"

The basilisk lay where it had died, almost perfectly preserved. Even in death it exuded a menace that was causing many in the group to fight their bladder's natural inclination to empty itself.

"You fought that," said Luna calmly, affected yes, but not as the others were.

Harry nodded, lost in thought, the memory of the battle which seemed so far away from where he was.

"You really are insane," said Daphne, hardly comprehending the magnitude of what she was seeing, what it meant about the man who'd put it there.

"I've been called worse."

"But not by better people," she added, drawing a wry smile from him.

He was starting to like the sarcastic Slytherin girl, despite himself. It made him wonder, if just for a moment, if things had been different, would they have been friends. His moment to ponder came to an end when he became aware of a strange sound, a sort of repetitive scratching.

"Does anyone else hear that?"

A scream answered his question, and a second later he saw them. Glistening black eyes and eight skittering legs, he would have recognized the acromantula even without the waving lights. Unsurprisingly it had been Ron who'd screamed but none of the others were acting any braver.

"Stay together!" Harry barked, throwing a stunner at the arachnid trio, causing them to break off evasively.

Taking Harry's attack as permission the rest of the group started flinging spells randomly at the three spiders which dodged with inhuman agility, advancing on the panicking wizards. Harry shook his head at the uncoordinated assault. "Think they'd never seen a giant spider before."

Selecting one, he focused on the spider's movement pattern, predicted where it would be, then set his trap. Perhaps it was all the transfiguration he'd been doing lately, but that's where his brain was when his spell turned the floor into a shifty silt. The spider never saw it and stumbled helplessly onto the unstable ground which Harry reverted, trapping five of the spiders eight legs in solid stone.

He instantly sought another target and found the second acromantula dancing uncontrollably. He knew that spell, but it still gave him a moment's pause to see it used in such a fashion. In his moment of surprise, the third was taken as well, bound in enough rope to tangle a dozen spiders.

The fight concluded, fast and brief, he let out a sigh as his nerves unwound slightly, "That could have been worse." Could have been better too, but he kept that thought to himself as he approached his captured spider and prepared to finish it.

"Wait!" shouted Daphne, interposing herself between Harry and the bug.

"Greengrass, move."

She didn't, "Please. Please don't kill them, not yet. Their intelligent creatures. We can reason with them."

She was right. He hated that she was right, but he'd spoken to one before, so he knew there was truth to her words. Ron however was not having it, stumbling up he pointed his wand at Daphne, hand shaking. Ron had been present for that conversation too, and clearly not forgotten how it ended.

"Knew she'd be trouble. I told you Harry, I told you she'd be trouble."

Harry sighed, hearing the manic edge in his friend's voice, "Ron…"

"She's on their side, probably knew they were here all along, lured us down here, never should have trusted her."

Harry sighed as his friend babbled nonsense. There'd be no talking him down like this. "Susan, come here."

The bouncy Hufflepuff trotted up, squeaking when Harry grabbed Ron by the head and shoved his face right between her, hufflepuppies, "Hold this," he said.

Sensing what he was getting at she wrapped her arms around the head in her chest and cooed gently, "There, there. It's alright."

With that under control, he turned back to Daphne, leveling his coldest stare, "Give me one good reason I shouldn't mash them all."

"Do it," the spider hissed before Daphne could reply. "Kill us. So weak. So hungry. Just end it."

Harry groaned internally at the spider's plea. He'd never thought it possible, but somehow it had happened. A spider, an acromantula no less, had hit him right in the empathy. And by the look on Daphne's face, she knew it.

Moving off so he had a clear shot, he gestured for her to get on with it. Carefully, she approached the trapped spider, kneeling so she was almost on its level. "Do you have a name?"

The spider made an odd sound, disdainful, Harry thought. "No name. We are not our father's favored."

"Your father?"

"Aragog," said Harry, surprising both witch and spider.

"You know Aragog?" it asked.

"We met once."

The spider was thoughtful for a moment, then its eyes went wide, "You were smaller then. Escaped with the creature with the beaming eyes."

Daphne looked between man and spider confused. "Long story," said Harry. "Yes, that was me, and him," he said, pointing to Ron, breathing heavily into Susan's blouse. "We remember, you tried to eat us. Just like now."

"Hungry," the spider weakly defended itself.

"They why are you here? How did you get down here?"

"The serpent's way," it replied.

"I thought you were afraid of the basilisk."

The spider hissed at the mention of its age-old enemy, "All fear, even in death. Hagrid told Aragog. We knew it dead, but still we stayed away. Then the cold. Hungry and cold, we came to the serpent's way. No food, but warmth. We hid from the cold, left to hunt. Then, the castle shook. The way was closed, and we were trapped."

"They've been down here since… since we…"

Harry understood her hesitation. It was hard enough living with the fact they'd traveled to another world without saying it out loud. "You haven't eaten since it happened?"

The spider shook its head, "Was more of us. Now, only three. Eaten the others."

Cannibalism. It made him sick to think but if roles were reversed, would he really act differently? He decided not to think about it, glancing briefly at the other two, one sitting placid bound in its ropes, the other still dancing till Harry threw a finishing charm and it flopped to the ground, legs shaking.

"Their starving," said Daphne with a hint of reproach.

He knew what she was trying to say without saying it, because his own brain was thinking it as well. Their starving and you wanted to smush them. Have you no heart?

It was stupid, intelligent or not they were still just giant spiders. But on the other hand, they were intelligent giant spiders, speaking, feeling, stabbing him with daggers of guilt. Dammit all.

Staring hard at the spider, he waved his wand, and her limbs rose from the floor. The spider looked surprised, dared to look him in the eye, understanding without words exactly what was she was being told.

Do not make me regret this.


	4. Chapter 3

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 03 – Sky view

…

"There he is."

"The big man himself."

A chill ran down Harry's spin, making good it's escape. He hadn't even seen them, and they were already buttering him up. That could only mean he wasn't going to like it, or they thought he wasn't going to like it. He hurriedly checked his escape route but before he could use it, they had him, arms slung genially over his shoulders. Shit!

"Nice to see you Harry."

"You are a highly sought-after man today, did you know?"

No, he didn't, and he was none too pleased to find out. Ever since they'd gone into the chamber of secrets, four days prior, he'd not had a moment to himself outside his morning hour of practice when sane people were still in bed. It was exhausting before, now, he really couldn't find a word for it. Inescapable?

Surrender was inevitable at this point, "So, who wants a piece of me today?"

He just hoped it wasn't Daphne with another spider issue. He still wasn't convinced bringing the three acromantula out of the chamber had been the right decision. Professor Sprout certainly hadn't thought so but at least she'd only shrieked a little. Professor Babbage had been more collected and simply passed out; sensible woman. Once that was squared away the situation was explained, which led to yet another problem.

Food, or the lack thereof. Meat was scarce, more so than everything else, and even more so once the spiders had been fed. They wouldn't need to gorge like that again but just keeping them fed was going to run out what little meat they had stored within a few weeks, and since that's all the spiders ate.

Of course, they wouldn't eat the basilisk, though he had a hard time blaming them for that. Despite having much meat, being a very large serpent, they refused to touch it. A complete and total waste as it was totally unfit for human consumption either, at least according to Jake Curry, the dark skinned third year Ravenclaw whose father harvested magical creatures professionally. He'd been the only one who knew how to properly rend down the ancient serpent and was still working on what to do with the hide.

The bones had all been stored in emptied out trunks and the fangs inside a very big, heavy box. No one wanted to think what might happen if someone accidentally got into that. The meat had been stored as well, boxed and placed into a small classroom they'd emptied out and turned into a freezer. They couldn't eat it, but it felt wrong to just throw it away. Nothing they'd taken out of the chamber had been thrown away, and they'd taken a lot out of the chamber.

Salazar Slytherin, while being a dreadful, and rather ugly man, was also a hoarder. They were still bringing things out of the chamber which was not just one chamber but possessed several antechamber's, all crammed full of things, not all of it sparkling and shiny but no small amount of it either. That had roused more than one green-eyed monster, till Harry reminded them all quite harshly of the futility of such wealth with nowhere and nothing to spend it on.

Ron still wasn't talking to him.

"Were you aware Harry dear."

"That our broomsticks do not work?"

Nothing worked, nothing magical anyway, "I hadn't heard."

"Dreadful state of things."

"Saddened us to think there was nothing we could do about it."

"But," he sensed was coming.

"Then we were approached by the Broom Restoration Committee."

Now that was a new one. "Anyone we know?"

"Actually, it was started by one of the younger Gryff's."

"Parently his dad worked for Cleansweep."

"Anyway, he gathered up some likeminded blokes."

"Couple Puff's and a trio of Raven's."

"And they've been working on the problem."

"Really?" Finally, some good news.

"They popped by earlier asking if we could send you their direction next time we saw you."

"And so, we are."

"Uh huh, and which direction are they then."

…

"HARRY!"

Harry cringed back at the younger boys over exuberant introduction, "Yes."

"Can't tell you how glad we are you came, I mean really, you have no idea," he chattered, vibrating with barely contained excitement.

"I might if you told me," said Harry, holding a neutral voice in the hopes of not setting off the volatile concoction before him. Who said he never learned anything in potions?

"RIGHT! Right, that's why we called you. That's why you're here!"

The young man scrambled back into the broom locker while his friends just watched him go, grinning and shaking their heads. "Is he always like this?" Harry inquired.

"Only since we finished the prototype," one said, a Ravenclaw if Harry wasn't mistaken.

Before Harry could ask a follow-up the excitable one was back, holding one of the old school brooms, "Here it is!"

Harry accepted the old relic, eyeing it skeptically, "Does it work?"

"Kinda," said another of the committee, a Hufflepuff he thought.

"Of course it does!"

Harry ignored the boy ready to burst and looked to the others for clarification. "We did manage to get it into the air."

"It's a rough ride."

"We hoped you could try it out, see what you thought. What needs the most work."

"It is just a prototype."

Harry smiled. The maturity on display was surprising. He certainly didn't feel he'd been so mature when he was their age, the oldest one couldn't have been more than third year. "Where should we try it out."

As a walk down memory lane, they took the broom to the very same courtyard where he'd first learned to fly. "UP!" he barked, and the broom rose to his hand. Unlike his first which practically leapt, this one was slow and steady, starting and stopping gently. "I'm already seeing problems," he muttered, but mounted the broom and kicked off.

There was a slight dip, then the broom hovered. He angled it upward and slowly, ever so slowly, the broom rose. The acceleration was pitiful, and the speed was barely there. But it flew. He took it all the way to the top of the nearest building, arms aching as he fought it, like arm wrestling a gorilla. Slowly, because fast had not been added to its vocabulary, he brought it back, setting down gently before dropping the broom and relieving his screaming arms.

"So, how was it!" the excitable one asked, beaming like a lighthouse.

"I have, some issue's," said Harry between gasps for air, shaking out his aching arms.

"Ready when you are," declared the Ravenclaw, producing a pad and pen and an eager look.

"Right, first, on the plus, it flies," which sadly was the only nice thing he could say. His flight had lasted barely two minutes but in that short amount of time he had seen a dozen different problems, from the handling to the acceleration, speed, basically everything.

"Why does it feel like I'm trying to lift an anvil just going up?"

"Hmm, not sure," he said as the others huddled around his note pad, "We wanted to put as much muscle in the levitation charms as possible, we actually exploded the first couple overdoing it."

"Probably the altitude adjustment charms. The flight looked stable, just slow."

"Acceleration definitely needs some work, and speed, but I think the handling needs to be adjusted first."

"I agree," said Harry. "Doesn't matter how fast it goes if you have wrestle with it like I was."

This set off a rapid chatter of things Harry had only the barest grasp of. He knew how to fly a broom, not how to make a broom fly. He'd never looked that deeply into it, which he was now regretting. Unable to contribute to the discussion he stood there with the very rough broom in his hand and considered how this rather simple thing, a broom that could fly, might improve their situation. The longer he considered, the bigger his smile got.

…

"Now don't go out too far."

"And don't talk to any strangers."

"Don't take wooden nickels."

"And be sure to wear clean underwear."

"Are you two done?"

The twins stood their grinning like the idiots they were as he prepared to set off. Over his shoulder was slung a carrier bag they'd scrounged out of the room of lost things and filled with a few doodads he was to try out. In his hand, the first proper model functional broomstick. It wasn't a Firebolt, but it wasn't arm wrestling a gorilla either. Progress had been made in the past week and he was eager to get going.

"Ready ta go Arry?" Hagrid asked.

Harry nodded, "I'll try to be back before dinner. If I'm not back by nightfall, assume something went wrong."

The twins and the half giant nodded. They'd already made plans and contingencies should the worst happen while he was out on his little scouting trip. None of them had any illusions about their situation. It was a brand-new world, mystery and danger around every rock, tree or dust bunny. No time to go running off half-cocked; that was what got the group of Slytherin's killed.

"I'll see you all when I get back." Mounting his broom, he kicked off, hovered, then slowly sailed into the sky, picking up speed with every foot.

In no time at all he was over Hogwarts and still rising. He wanted to get a good look at their location and the best place to do that was cloud level. Or at least, the level the clouds were usually at. The sky was clear and blue with not so much as a wisp of cirrus in sight which made it perfect for his intentions.

The air was thin at altitude and his warm Weasley jumper only did so much to ward off the cold. He made to do a quick survey of his surroundings which was drawn out when he got a good look at the view, magnificent.

The castle had landed right at the foot of a mountain, one of the towers fusing into the side which reached up even higher than he. Stretching out away from the castle the forest extended as far as the eye could see, all the way it seemed to another range of mountains in the distance, though how far he couldn't say.

There were breaks in the trees, one in particular off to one side where he knew the swamp to be and further out still a great marsh which fed into the sea, or ocean; he really wasn't sure what the difference was and it was too far to tell anyway.

His view was good, but his eyes were only human, and behind glasses. He grinned down at the miniature world below him, so many things to see. He hardly knew where to start. Not on the mountains he decided. He was already feeling the chill; he'd explore them when it was warmer.

Tilting the broom down, he headed for the swamp. He had one of the twin's water filtering jars which they'd asked him to fill up so they could test it on something a little more, viscous.

Coming in to hover above the murky half frozen water he scanned it thoroughly before dipping into his bag for the jar. He didn't know how common the massive serpent he'd fought was and the last thing he wanted was to find out how he'd manage in a one on one. Placing the filter in the end of the old sherry bottle as Fred had shown him, he found a patch of reeds and levitated the bottle down, setting it so the filter sat in the water where it could do its job.

Satisfied it was working, he marked the spot in his mind then hovered away from the water and into the nearby forest. Pulling yet another of the twin's projects from his bag, a simple looking stone perhaps twice as large as his fist with a single rune carved into it, he set about finding a good place to put it.

Weaving between barren trees, their branches grasping like decrepit hands, he located a small clearing. Tapping the stone twice as he'd been directed, he tucked his wand behind his ear and focused on the now lightly glowing stone. Opening his hand, it hovered between his fingers before slowly descending to the snow crusted ground. Letting out a held breath, he smiled. His practice was paying off, faster than he'd initially expected but he thought he understood why.

Focus. He was fully focused on a very small number of things. Not in general of course, since he seemed to go in a dozen different directions every day, but in his magical practice he had a very small number of things he was working on devotedly. Many of which complimented the others.

He was practicing his transfiguration, which he regularly used for making saw blades, in preparation for his eventual learning of the animagus transformation. He was constantly using his levitations and other simple spells which fed into his practice of doing them without his wand.

Even the enhancement magic the twins had found played into the others as it required no wand to perform, and though he'd yet gotten to human physical enhancement, he had managed to enhance a glass jar to the point he could smash it against a wall with all his strength and not break it. Progress.

What he wasn't doing was wasting time, he hadn't enough of it to do so. No sitting in towers learning the stars and what their positions ostensibly meant. No slouching in the dungeon with Snape constantly looking over his shoulder and criticizing him for breathing too loud. And especially no sipping tea and prognosticating his own demise.

Just as well really, Trelawney had been comatose in the hospital wing since they'd arrived. He'd seen her the one time he'd been in, checking on the Slytherin survivor that had sent he and the twins into the swamp in the first place.

"Maybe that's why they've stayed in the dungeon," he pondered aloud.

Before Daphne, he'd not seen hide nor hair of a single Slytherin outside of meals. The vast majority of students seemed to be cloistered in their dorms but as he'd seen, not all of them. Croft and Jones were merely the first, then the Broom Repair Committee, and only that morning he'd seen a gang of first years in the library practicing their levitation. The thing he found most odd about all of these was that it was the younger students rather than the older ones who he'd have thought would be more proactive. It made no sense to him; perhaps he was missing something.

"Maybe ask Fred and George when I get back," he mused, hanging on his broom, watching the glowing stone do whatever it was meant to do. They'd called it a lure stone, but what it was luring they hadn't said.

It'd be a good half hour before he found out, when the little deer wandered into the clearing and began licking at the stone. Another followed a moment later and a third a few minutes after that.

"Well how do you like that." It lured food, sort of. He continued to sit and watch as other animals approached. Rabbits and squirrels appeared in number, and a small wild pig trotted up like it was an everyday occurrence. It was fortunate he couldn't actually radiate light from his face because if he could, he would be literally beaming, rather than just metaphorically.

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant." They'd really hit it out of the park with this one. Used properly, it would go a long way to solving their food crisis. At the very least it would help alleviate the pressure for a while.

Now the only question was, how was he going to get them all home. He had a good length of rope in his bag, but he suspected none of them would take too kindly to being tied up. Would they run if he attacked? Only one way to find out.

Picking his targets carefully, he started with the deer. His stunners were fired in rapid succession and all three deer were down before any of them knew what was happening. Those were his only free shots, the sudden assault breaking whatever spell was holding them. The small creatures scattered before he could blink, and the pig turned to run only to take a stunner in the rear.

To Harry's dismay that did not drop it and he fired a few more at its swiftly retreating behind, missing with every shot.

"Dammit!" He'd really been hoping to taste bacon again.

Landing next to the stone he tapped it twice again, ceasing its glowing and the silent call it was broadcasting. Grabbing his rope, he cast a quick petrification on the deer, just in case, before tying them securely about the legs and hanging them from his broomstick.

Getting into the air was a bit of a trick, but he managed it, and with ponderous slowness, wove his way out of the forest to collect his bottle and head back to Hogwarts. The surprises for the day weren't over though, as something had discovered his bottle and was intently investigating it. The fact that he could hear the creature talking told him everything he needed to know save one. How big was it.

Not terribly as it turned out. The serpent was of a more normal size, or perhaps it simply wasn't very old. It's manner of speaking was quite simple, childlike even, and feminine, or so his ears told him.

"What is it? What is it that takes the water? We feel it. We feel it takes the water, but what is it?" There was intelligence in the creature, not much, but enough that it realized who was speaking to it when Harry told it to shoo.

"Away from there," he hissed, "that is mine."

The serpent looked up at him unconcerned. "You are meat. Too big for me now. Go away meat. I will eat you some other time."

"Snotty little snake," he grumbled.

With a swish and a flick, the bottle rose toward his hand, only to halt midway when the serpent leapt from the water and latched on. Losing his concentration at the surprise attack he dropped the bottle which fell back into the swamp, serpent and all.

Harry glared at the serpent who glared back as only a creature with no eyelids can. "Mine," it hissed, curling around the bottle.

"You have way too much attitude for your size." He wasn't scared of the smaller snake. He'd already managed to best one much larger, with help. This one would hardly be a challenge. Except, it did have the bottle, and Harry wasn't sure if he could pull of that particular trick again.

The spell he'd used was a little cantrip he'd learned in first year. They used to run around the common room zapping each other, all except Harry. For some reason, he'd overpowered it so badly, traumatizing poor Neville, that the others had banned him from playing 'Gotcha' ever again. It was hard to rely on a spell when the effect you wanted only came when you did it wrong.

"Mine, mine. Not for you, mine," the serpent taunted.

He was about ready to give it up, one bottle wasn't that important. Except, what if it was, and the idea of giving in to the obnoxious reptile felt rather like giving in to Draco Malfoy. Unacceptable. Out of range of all but the serpents mocking, Harry pondered for a moment. The conclusion he came to inspired a wicked grin.

"You want it, alright, keep it," he said, pointing his wand, not at the bottle, but at the serpent.

The transfiguration was quick, quicker than the serpent could react. One moment it was glaring at the floating meat with a great sense of superiority, next it was made of wood and had no sense of anything.

"That'll teach you," said Harry, floating serpent and bottle up and into his bag before turning his broom homeward.

"Wait till Fred and George get a load of this."

…

"So whatcha gonna do with it."

Having the whole ride back to think about it, "I have no idea," hadn't helped one bit.

"Least we know there are more of them," said George, removing the bottle from the coils of the wooden serpent and setting the two apart on the table.

"And we know our lure works," added Fred, drawing smiles all around.

"You boys are certainly coming up aces lately," Harry said.

"And the hits keep coming," said Fred.

"We think we've figured out how to remake 'the map'," said George.

"No kidding." Security was a very real concern, now without the wards. Although, if he was being honest, the wards had never done much to keep the threats out.

"And, that's not all." Pulling a book from the stack on the table, Fred waved it in front of Harry, "Look what we found."

"I would if you'd stop moving it around." Snatching it before he could pull it away, seeker reflexes, he glanced at the blank cover before opening it to the first page which bore the title. He could have peed his pants. "You found it."

"You doubted?"

"We're hurt."

Ignoring their hammy display, he began paging through the book. He'd wanted to find this book ever since Sirius told him about it. This was it. The book that had cemented a friendship. The book that would allow him to become an animagus. "Wicked."


	5. Chapter 4

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 04 – Look what I found

…

Tired, so tired; he wanted to die. It hadn't been this exhausting when he spent half the night waking up screaming. He had seen true evil, and it wasn't a flat faced dark lord with no nose. Oh no, there was nose, and they were cute noses, attached to cute faces. Cute faces and bouncy naked bodies they apparently needed to flout in front of him.

Not that he was able to enjoy it. They always took what they wanted before teasing him with their nubile flesh. Water. So much hot water. It didn't matter how tired he was by the time he dragged his carcass back to Gryffindor tower. "Harry," they would croon, and despite his best efforts, he would always crumble.

He was so pathetic.

Floating somewhere between sleep and wakefulness it haunted him, the weakness, the injustice, the flashes of flesh. He'd heard Lavender could be quite flirtatious, but given how poorly his one date had gone, he never thought he'd get to see that much of Parvati. The images blurred in his mind, their cooing, winking, stripping.

He shifted in his sleep, hands grasping, lips moaning. Something in the hour must have jarred his brain, as he realized the moaning sounded wrong, and his hands seemed to be grasping something he didn't think they should be. Lavender and Parvati faded as his eyes fluttered open to reveal, not much. No glasses.

However, in this instance, not much was more than should have been there. He felt weight laying on one arm, though not enough that it stopped his hand from flexing. Another soft moan, definitely not from his lips. Something in the tone of it sent a bolt of lightning to his brain and his aching body came fully online. Still couldn't see for crap but there was a hint in the blur, the color, pale yellow, very pale.

Somewhere between the bath, the couch, and the morning, someone had joined him. Someone soft, fuzzy, and if he flexed his hands, "Mmmm!" yep, absolutely female. Oh shit!

His first thought was Hermione, his poor friend gone mad, finally returned to the tower had staggered to the nearest thing to lie on and crawled in next to him. He instantly found holes in that theory. The color of hair was all wrong for a start, and the warm body he was spooning smelled much too fresh to be his friend who'd not bathed or had a change of clothes since entering the library.

Lavender was a possibility; the hair was right. He discarded this idea as well though. He was almost certain that if it was Lavender, she'd be naked, and facing toward him not away.

While he lay their fretting, the soft warm body stirred, moaning something barely intelligible, "Harry."

It wasn't the sound of his name that caused his brain to go 'ping', but the voice in which it was said, "Luna?"

Dragging his arm as she rolled, the warm body turned to face him. He still couldn't see, but he could feel his arm wrapping around her without thinking. Her warm breath against his skin sent strange tingles to places he tried very hard not to think about. "Good morning, Harry."

"Luna," so he was right. "What are you doing here Luna, and how did you get in."

"Talking to you, and, through the door."

He bit back a chuckle, mostly due to a lack of energy. "If I asked you what brought you here, would you say, your feet?"

"They did."

This time he did chuckle. There was just something about a conversation with Luna, or perhaps he was just too tired for his own good, either way, he was having fun. He was a little worried she might be interested in another kind of fun when she snuggled in close and buried her face in his chest.

"Uh, Luna."

"I don't think I'm ready to wake up yet Harry," she mumbled into his shirt.

More sleep sounded like a fantastic idea, but his brain refused to switch off. There was a girl, in his arms. There was programing for that, programing he was trying very hard not to activate—for some reason. But then what; what was he supposed to do with that?

Sleeping didn't seem like the appropriate response to the situation, but that's what she wanted to do, or did she. Was this some kind of test? Was she waiting to see what he would do? Did she want him to do something? Should he do something?

Paralyzed with indecision, he lay their listening to Luna's gentle breathing. The warmth against his chest and the smell of a girl so close pinging that programing which really, really wanted to start up; like really wanted to start up. It drew power from other parts of the brain factory, something that put him at a serious disadvantage when the twins showed up.

"Well, well, well."

"What's all this then?"

"Uh," he said intelligently.

"Taking a lady to your bed Harry?"

"No, no Fred, to his couch."

"Oh, his couch, well that's different then isn't it."

"Oh, I should say, rather."

Addled by distraction and conflicting programing, he was not at all prepared to deal with their verbal tennis. Luna mumbled something impolite and clumsily swatted at them for making so much noise and waking her up.

"She's feisty in the morning."

"And in the afternoon."

"But what about the evening?"

"Ask Harry, he should know."

"I wish," he said without thinking.

"Sleep through the performance?"

"That's a shame. You missed the best part."

He was sure he hadn't. He was pretty sure nothing of the sort had happened. He was also pretty sure they knew that, and they weren't going to stop teasing him despite it. The pouting wasn't going to help either, he was pretty sure.

Chortling at his discomfort, they decided to let him stew for a moment in favor of another target, "And what brings the lovely Luna to our humble tower this morning."

"I need wood," she said.

Harry blushed scarlet while the twins tried to hold in a roar of laughter.

"Oh really."

"I bet Harry's got some wood you can have."

"Harry, can I have your wood?"

If she kept talking to him in the that sweet little voice and touching him with those soft little hands, he was gonna give her his wood; and he didn't care if those two chuckleheads stood there and watched either.

"Please, Harry."

…

"I think this will do nicely."

"Thought it might. Not too many soft woods in this bunch mind you. Mostly hardwood fur as I can see."

"If you happen across any Aspen or Birch, I can use those as well."

"I'll keep me eye open fur it then."

Wood, that which trees are made of. Ground into a pulp it can be used to make paper. That's what she was after. Not Harry's 'wood', both to his delight and chagrin. What was it about girls that made everything so complicated?

"Got what you need?" he asked.

"I think this will do for now," she said, levitating her pile while carrying a pale of sawdust and woodchips in the other hand. "Thank you, Hagrid!"

"Come back any time then."

Smiling brightly, the girl called Lovegood trotted toward the castle and the man she'd woken up next to followed, dragging his sled full of wood. Not that kind of wood though, he'd lost that shortly after falling off the couch.

"So, you're going to make paper then," he said.

Luna nodded, "Daddy's been making it for as long as he's been making the Quibbler."

"Really?" fascinating. "So when you say he 'makes' the Quibbler that's quite literally."

The blonde nodded, "He always thought it was silly to buy paper when he could just make it himself. The trees were right there after all and if he needed more he'd just grow more."

"Makes sense," sort of. "Did he make his own ink too?"

"Sometimes. That was always a mess though."

"Messy process?"

"Messy father."

He couldn't resist a laugh at that, and the way she was smiling told him that was the right reaction. "He sounds like fun. What about your mum?"

"She died when I was little."

The abruptness of her words, spoken so conversationally were like being punched in the gut. He almost stopped dead in his tracks if not for the weight of the sled causing him to pay more attention to his walking than he might otherwise have.

"What happened?"

"Magical accident," she said. "I'm not sure what she was researching. All her notes were destroyed when it exploded. It almost killed me too."

"Luna, I…" I'm sorry, that's what most people would say. But sorry for what. Sorry your mum blew herself up. Sorry you got hurt. Sorry she died, and you lived. "I understand."

She turned a look to him that was the strangest mix of emotions he'd ever seen, just a hint of tear in one eye. "You do, don't you."

If anyone did.

Wrapping one arm around her, he made a gesture at the sled and it floated off the ground, following them all the way back to the castle.

She wasn't in his bed/couch, the next morning. He didn't see her at all in fact, missing out on his morning practice to help the twins magic his carrying bag before joining Hagrid who had acquired a couple new helpers when he wasn't looking. He vaguely recognized them as members of Gryffindor, second years maybe, and they'd come to help cut wood. Harry couldn't have been happier (unless he'd woken with a Luna in his bed—couch—you know what I mean).

Hagrid wasn't the only one picking up helpers either. The kitchen was fuller than he'd seen it since the house elves ran it. Apparently, a few off-hand comments he'd made around Susan had gotten through. He hadn't even been trying to hint at anything, but he was glad she'd decided to take the initiative; so was Professor Sprout.

His usual process of cutting took longer than the usual as he went through a very detailed demonstration of how he did it. Followed by further demonstration of the cutting spell he used which then led into both a lecture followed by practice. He left later than normal, the junior woodcutters still hard at work, supervised by Hagrid.

It made him grin to see the castle coming alive again. It still bothered him though that it was only the young ones. No one over fourth year, outside of the new kitchen witches, seemed to be wandering far from their dorms. He couldn't figure it out. Was it just the natural adventurousness of youth, curiosity, cabin fever?

He was still pondering the question when he reached the castle and found Croft and Jones waiting for him.

"Wotcher all. What're you two up to?"

He found it suspicious how they just stood their vibrating with excitement. "We found something cool?"

"Yeah?"

They nodded like a pair of bobbleheads.

"And I take it you wanted to show me."

Again, they nodded, so hard he was afraid their heads would come off.

"Guess we should probably go before one or both of you explodes."

Failing to see the humor they just nodded manically and scampered off, expecting Harry to follow. It was a short chase through the halls, down the stairs, past the kitchen where he peeked in briefly to see who was working.

He only stopped once when he came across of trio of third years standing around a disassembled suit of armor. "Now what are you lot up to."

"We're trying to figure out how to make this golem work."

"Golem?" He knew what a golem was. Professor Flitwick had demonstrated them in second year as an introduction to several of the simple utility spells he would go on to teach them.

"We're pretty sure all the suits of armor in the castle are actually golems. Or can be animated as golems anyway."

"The ones that don't have ghouls in them at least."

That would be quite a defensive feature, if they were right. Before he got a chance to say anymore though Dakota and Laurel returned looking very impatient. "Carry on," he chuckled, jogging up to his waiting guides.

They led him to a small corner where a narrow hall, nearly hidden, led to a small door, already open. Wands were drawn, lights were lit, and Harry followed the two young explorers into the dim and dismal room. It was crowded, that was his first thought. Crowded yet surprisingly clean. There were no layers of dust nor endless strings of cobwebs, which seemed odd since the next thing he noticed was the giant spider skulking around.

"Is that one of ours?" he asked.

They nodded, "Yeah, we brought Toragog in here."

They'd had no names when they'd been found down in the Chamber of secrets. Upon learning of their existence, and after blubbering a bit as he was want to do at times, Hagrid had insisted they should have names. Thus, the two sons of Aragog had been named Toragog and Noragog. His daughter had been a bit tougher to pin down but eventually they'd settled on Marigold. Why exactly Harry hadn't asked.

Ignoring the giant spider, "So how'd you two find this place?"

The room was massive, filled with an assortment of things, all of them appearing to serve a single purpose, battle. Suits of armor stood crammed between rack upon rack of swords and polearms. Barrels full of bows sat next to barrels full of arrows and crossbows hung from hooks on the wall. Armory, that was the word; it was some sort of armory.

"One of the girls working in the kitchen thought she saw something when she was leaving last night. We heard her telling Susan about it this morning."

"Something? What kind of something?" should he be worried about this something?

"We don't know," said Laurel. "Neither did she. She said she didn't get a good look at it."

"Freaked her out though," said Dakota. "So, we decided to investigate."

"You find it?"

"Well…"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

The two looked at each other uncertainly, "We thought we might have seen something when we came in here," said Dakota.

"But it was gone so fast we thought we maybe imagined it."

"Is that why the spider's here?"

They nodded. "We figured he'd have more luck finding it than we would."

And they were right. They'd barely finished saying the words when the giant arachnid lunged, and something squealed. There was much banging and clanging as they knocked over armors and weapons in their frantic chase. Whatever it was couldn't have been large because none of them could see it and the spider went after it fearlessly. It wasn't but a few moments before Toragog caught the creature, and that's when things got weird.

"Oh gods please don't eat me I don't wanna die don't do it Nooooooooo!"

"Stop!" Harry barked, and the spider froze, his squirming prey clasped tightly between two limbs.

"Blimey, will ya look at that!"

The creature was some kind of lizard, long and green with a flaring frill around his neck which twitched erratically as it struggled against the acromantula.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, praying it wasn't just him.

"What?" asked Dakota, making Harry cringe.

"You mean the lizard begging for his life?" said Laurel.

"Oh! Yeah, I heard that," added Dakota.

Which meant it wasn't just him. Which meant this was no ordinary lizard. "Alright, give him to me," said Harry, fearlessly marching up to the giant spider.

Toragog shuffled uncertainly, "Want to eat it," he said.

"No, no, no!" the lizard cried, and Harry agreed.

"Give." He ordered.

The spider sighed sullenly but handed him the squirming lizard. Harry gripped it round the middle firmly, "Stop it." Rather than obey, the lizards tail wrapped around Harry's wrist and the lizard flung himself away from the spider, latching onto the arm that gripped him.

"Don't let it eat me!" he wailed.

"I'm not going to let him eat you," unless you piss me off, he left unsaid. The spider pouted, which was an odd thing for a spider to do, but it somehow worked. "I'll get you something else."

That mollified the spider and let Harry focus on the shivering reptile clinging to his arm. "Could you loosen the grip please, you're starting to hurt my arm."

"But it's so warm," said the lizard, rubbing his head against Harry's exposed flesh.

Not in a mood to put up the lizard's silliness he threw a simple warming charm at the creature, "There, better?"

The lizard blinked in surprise and released Harry's arm, though Harry did not release his own grip. "Huh, well now, that is lovely. How'd you do that?"

"Magic," said Harry. "How is it you speak?"

"Same answer I think?" said the lizard.

Harry groaned but didn't chastise the lizard. He'd started it after all.

Before he could begin a proper interrogation, a head popped in through the doorway, "Hello. Anyone… oh, Harry. Just the person I was looking for."

Of course I am, "What?"

"If you're not too busy. We could use your help with something. Pretty please."

He could barely make the face out in the dark, but he just knew she was batting her eyelashes at him. Dammit. "Laurel, take this." Handing the boy the lizard, he turned to the spider. "Go back to your nest. I'll bring you your reward when I have it."

Without complaint the spider skittered from the room, eliciting only a single yelp as he passed the witch at the doorway.

"Alright, I apparently don't have time to do this so I'm counting on the two of you," he said looking at the children. "Find out everything you can about our new friend. Laurel, you're in charge. That means your responsible for his wellbeing, got it."

The young man nodded solemnly, puffing up with pride.

"And you," he said to the lizard. "There are two more of those roaming around this castle. If you don't wish to be eaten, you'll stay very close and not cause any trouble, got it."

The lizard nodded emphatically which made Harry feel a little bad. The other two weren't wandering the castle, hopefully. But he didn't want the lizard doing unsupervised till he knew what they were dealing with.

"Alright, you lot head to the library, tell the twins I need one of their lure stones. I'll be along once I've sorted this out."

The odd little trio nodded and went to do as bade. Another startled yelp sounded from the doorway and Harry sighed. He just knew the moment he was in reach she was going to latch onto him and refuse to let go.

"It really doesn't pay getting off the couch some days."


	6. Chapter 5

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 05 – Friends and Allies

…

"So, it finally happened."

"Can't say I'm shocked."

"Bound to eventually."

"Yep."

"What now?"

"You grab that end; I'll grab this end."

…

She woke with great slowness; a terrific weight lay upon her, dragging her down. How frustrating, but no matter. No weight would hold down Hermione Granger. This one was doing a good job of trying, but no matter. Her eyelids cracked like the doors of a tomb and she blinked several times to clear the sleep.

Her mind was slow to adjust to wakefulness. It annoyed her greatly but there was nothing she could do about it; she sat there while her brain booted up, taking in her surroundings. The familiar crimson of the common room surrounded her; location establish, confirmed. The feel of soft leather beneath her hands told her she was sitting in a chair, a chair in the common room; location established, reconfirmed.

The weight on her legs suggested her cat was with her. A slow downward tilt of the head revealed this to be true. Her cat was on her lap. But that wasn't the only thing. A large green lizard of a type she did not recognize also sat on her lap, staring at her cat.

Attempting to make sense of this information caused her brain to crash and start a hard reboot. Several minutes later Hermione version 15.7 was back up and running but nowhere nearer to understanding the information her eyes were sending her brain.

The intensity of her visual analysis must have distracted the lizard because it blinked, then cursed, causing her cat to give a hissing chuckle.

"Blast it all. You are very good at this," the lizard said.

Crookshanks didn't even bother to preen, such praise was to be expected after all, gesturing with one paw and meowing specifically.

"Oh yes, of course," said the lizard, turning around to the side table and retrieving a plastic bottle. Retrieving the treat, he offered it to the cat who gobbled it up then sat there, smugly content.

"I'll get you next time," said the lizard, returning the bottle to the table before noticing Hermione staring at him. "Oh, well hello. I was wondering when you'd wake up."

Why was the lizard wondering, wondered Hermione? There was nothing in her vast databank that suggested a lizard of any sort should be able to do such a thing. The talking bit was confounding her as well and she didn't like it.

"Who are you?" she asked, wondering why she hadn't asked 'what' are you which seemed the more appropriate question but at the same time rather rude which conflicted strongly with her standard behavioral protocols.

"Wizard is my name," declared the lizard grandly.

"Wizard?" said Hermione, barely able to hold in her incredulity.

"Yes. That is what Laurel has decided I shall be called, and Dakota just thought it was funny since, you know, lizard, wizard."

"And are you a wizard?" she felt ridiculous for asking.

"Oh no, no, no, nothing of the sort. Although, that would be rather interesting wouldn't it. I wonder. Hmm. Could I? I'll have to ask that Harry chap when he comes back and see what he thinks."

There was little sense to be made of the things the lizard was saying, and she was forced to switch certain algorithm's off just so her brain wouldn't shut down again because the lizard was talking. But there was one thing she was able to grasp onto and she did so with both hands.

"You said Harry?"

"Did I? Why yes I did."

"Where is Harry."

"Laurel needed his help with something. They should be back shortly. In the meantime, he asked me to watch you which I thought was rather odd since this fellow here already seemed to be watching you," he said, gesturing to Crookshanks who sat, unconcerned by the talking lizard. "Harry thought it might be better if you woke up to someone you could talk to."

She would need to have words with Harry on what was and was not an appropriate thing for her to wake up to. Talking lizards being very near the top of the 'not' list, though only because she'd woken up to one and now decided it was bad. "Where did you come from?"

"It's actually funny you should ask that," he said. She strongly disagreed but kept herself from saying so. "I was just discussing that very topic with Laurel the other day after Harry saved me from that enormous arachnid. Apparently, I'm rather unique did you know."

"Really?" Her higher brain functions may have been running slow, but her sarcasm circuit worked just fine.

"I think it really started with where I was hatched. I was all alone when I crawled out of my egg, down in the base of a hollowed log. There was something there, I'm not sure what it was but it pulsed and glowed and from the very beginning I knew it was good, even though to this day I don't know what it was.

"Years later it would stop glowing, and that was when I decided to strike out into the world. I'd watched people come and go past my home since I was born but I'd always been hesitant to approach them. With my warm glowy thing not glowing anymore I took it as a sign, and I went to town."

That must have gone well, the bushy haired girl thought.

"I'd never been so excited; everything was strange and new. So was I by the way everyone looked at me. I was beginning to feel a little self-conscious when I ran into a fellow who didn't look at me like I was strange. He was a druid you see. Wish I could remember his name now, it's so embarrassing, it really is.

"Anyway, the reason he didn't think me strange, was that he'd seen things like me before. Awakened, he called it. I was awakened. When he asked me who had awakened me, I told him I didn't know, mentioned my glowy that wasn't glowing. He thought on it a while, decided whatever it had been was probably responsible somehow. Said I'd just awakened the natural way, and would I like to come with him.

"I was delighted to do so, never having had a friend before you see. So off we went, and I never looked back."

"Fascinating," not that she understood any of it, which annoyed her. "So where is this friend, may I ask?"

"Sadly, he died fighting this nasty river troll. The others got it in the end but that was the end of my dear friend, and shortly after my entire world."

"Your world?"

"Oh yes. Not sure what did it, but one day as I was scrounging for lunch, the whole sky turned red, the earth shook, and everything began falling apart. Whatever it was seemed to have opened up portals as well, or I just happened to be lucky, and I escaped through to this world. Which would have been much better if I hadn't landed at the top of a frozen mountain. If you lot hadn't happened along, I might still be frozen up there."

There was a brief spark of interest when the lizard mentioned the death of his world that was quickly smothered under a wave of repressed emotions. That couldn't be why they were there. She refused to even consider the possibility. Stupid lizard, what did he know.

"I think your right Harry, that should work."

The sound of 'Harry' drew her attention and her friend appeared followed by a younger boy she didn't recognize.

"You're sure you can handle it?"

"I think so. I… oh, she's awake."

Being noticed she felt embarrassed for no reason she could explain, wilting under the intensity of her friend's gaze. "Hermione."

"Harry," she mumbled.

"Wizard, thank you for watching her," the actual wizard said to the lizard.

"Oh that's fine. Happy to help," the green reptile said, turning to her feline. "Next time," he said before scampering down her leg and up the unknown boy, perching on his shoulder.

"We'll get to work on it Harry," he said, and with barely a nod he and the lizard were gone.

"Nice kid," said Harry, when her eyes stared after the absent boy too long.

"Don't think I know him," she readily admitted, cursing herself silently for saying so out loud.

"He's from Hufflepuff. I'd be more surprised if you did know him," said Harry, sitting down on the short table in front of her. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," she lied without even thinking.

She could tell instantly it was a mistake. His expression said it all. "Really?"

"How did I get up here?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"Fred and George brought you up," he said. "They thought you might be happier dying up here than on the cold hard floor of the library. Were they right?"

"DIE!" What did he mean die? She was just a little groggy that's all, just a little tired. "Why did they think I was dying? That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" The look he gave her said it really wasn't. "Tell me something. When was the last time you ate?"

"Uh, I…" when was the last time she ate?

"How bout the last time you changed your clothes? Or slept in your bed. When was the last time you fed your cat?"

She wilted under the last of his accusations, shrinking even further at the look Crookshanks directed at her. "So, I've been a little neglectful," she hedged.

"Little nothing," he snapped, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Harry, what're you…" she squealed, startled when his hand grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled up. Her moment's embarrassment became something like horror when she saw what lay beneath.

"Look Hermione. Look at what you've done to yourself!"

She didn't want to, but at the same time she couldn't not. Her skin was speckled red with some kind of rash which only looked worse along the contours of her bones which stuck out under her skin. She could see the upper point of her hips plainly and count every rib not still covered by her shirt.

"Please… please," she begged, and he lowered her shirt. "I didn't know. I didn't know."

"No, I suppose you didn't," he said with barely restrained anger. "You were too busy chasing shadows, looking for something that doesn't exist to bother paying attention to your own health. Well no more."

The finality of that statement startled her, "What do you mean."

"I mean until further notice, you are not entering the library, at all."

"WHAT!" He couldn't do that.

Feebly she tried to stand only to be pushed back down by her own cat with insulting ease. "You're in no position to do anything about it, if Crookshanks can stop you, what chance do you think you have against me?"

"You… you can't do that. You can't do that Harry!" she cried, great tears rolling down her cheeks as the true depths of her situation began to become clear.

The display did not move him, quite the opposite; his already firm resolve turned to steel. "I can, and I will. You've proved you can't be trusted. You can hate me if you want, but I refuse to let you kill yourself. We may be in another world, but there are still people in this castle who care about you, and we won't let you hurt yourself anymore."

His words hurt her more than anything she'd done to herself. They hurt because he was right. Everything he was doing, everything he was saying was right. She didn't deserve such a good friend. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The weight of it was too much. Her weak body refused to hold her up and she tilted forward still sobbing. Her head came to rest gently on his strong shoulders, and she sobbed with a strength she shouldn't have had. She didn't deserve him but there he was, holding her, helping her, saving her again.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry," she cried over and over into his shoulder. He said nothing in turn, holding her up and calmly stroking the great messy bush that was her hair.

After some minutes her sobs died down to the sniffles and he leaned her back into the chair, stroking the last of the tears from her face. "Don't you worry, we'll get you sorted out. First things first though, you are getting a bath because you REEK!"

She gave a soggy laugh, her eyes not quite done washing her face. "Thank you."

Her friend just nodded, smiling in a way that made her tired body feel a little bit lighter.

"It's all ready when you are Harry."

"Right," Walking up the stairs on the girl's side he disappeared, leaving her with Lavender looking down at her smugly.

"Well, go ahead, rub it in. I know you want to."

The light blonde shrugged, "I know you never liked me," said Lavender, "and I've come to accept that. But if you think that means I wish you ill, I'm not the least bit sorry to disappoint you."

She was taken aback at this. She never had liked the air headed girl, but she didn't think it had been obvious. She was the exact opposite of Hermione, and in some ways what Hermione secretly wished she could have been. Seemed like this was just the day for her to be wrong. "Why did Harry go upstairs?"

"He's getting your bath ready," she said. "He does the water just right. Once he's done, we'll get you all clean."

"I can clean myself," she squawked indignantly. The feral expression she received in turn sent a chill down her spine.

"Can you?" Picking up her bow-legged feline, her roommate said, "Stand up."

Scowling fiercely, and grunting profusely, she struggled to her feet, only to wobble briefly and flop back into her chair. "Oh," she moaned weakly.

"Worse than we thought," said Lavender, looking not smug but concerned.

"We're going to have to be careful with her," said Parvati, joining the two. "We might break something."

Harry returned moments later and took Crookshanks so Lavender and Parvati could help her up the stairs. Harry watched her go with the ginger cat in his arms who meowed after his mistress. "Don't worry. She'll be okay. We'll make sure."

He meant every word. He felt no small amount of responsibility for her condition, having left her to it for as long as he had, knowing full well how she was and what she'd do. Maybe this would get the point across. He hoped so. If not, he wasn't sure what it would take.

"You can stop hiding back there now. She's gone."

A ginger head poked out from the chair directly behind the one Hermione had until recently occupied. "I wasn't hiding," Ron insisted with a slight squeak.

"Really?" said Harry. "And what would you call it?"

He wasn't sure, but that didn't stop him from trying to justify it, "Come on mate, you know if I'd been there, we would have just started yelling at each other."

He wasn't necessarily wrong; they did tend to push each other's buttons. That didn't stop Harry from staring at him till he felt an inch and a half tall.

"Special delivery!" a chipper voice announced. "Who ordered the get better special?"

Harry smiled at the tray full of food levitated into the room with a bouncy Hufflepuff behind it.

"Right on time Susan. Hermione just went up for her bath."

"And I put a stasis charm on it, so it'll still be hot when she gets down," said Susan, setting the tray on the table. "So, since that's taken care of, you're not doing anything right now, are you."

Uh oh, "Well I was…"

"Good, come with me."

"Why?" he whined in a less than inspiring fashion.

"You mean, you don't want to come with me?" It was unfair of her to use the big dewy eyes, and the sniffles. The pout was just completely uncalled for, but that didn't stop her.

Groaning at what a sucker he was, "Neville, when Hermione comes down make sure she eats 'all' of that."

"Okay Harry," said Neville.

"And make sure Ron doesn't get into it either."

"I wouldn't!" the youngest Weasley son protested.

No one believed that for a second; the smattering of laughter from around the room said it all.

"Well look who it is."

Having left the tower and descended the stairs, who should they find waiting for them but the one Slytherin he was on speaking terms with. Didn't mean he trusted her.

"Et tu Susan. Giving me away to the enemy."

"And now your all mine Mr. Potter. To do with as I please," said Daphne, steepling her fingers overdramatically.

"That sounded naughty," said Susan. "Any chance I can get in on that."

"The more the merrier."

Harry sighed as the two females began plotting his deflowering right in front of him. "I hope this wasn't what you brought me down here for Susan."

"Why not?"

"We just thought you'd feel better if Susan was here," said Daphne when Harry began staring down the busty Hufflepuff. "And it didn't seem safe for me to go up there to get you."

The second part he totally understood. But the first part, "And why would I feel uncomfortable?"

The two girls looked nervously at each other in a way that made Harry very nervous. "Harry," said Susan, taking his right arm, setting his warning system to red alert.

He tried to pull away, but Daphne was quick to counter, latching onto his other arm and pointing the big doe eyes at him, "Please."

He wasn't going to like it. If they were already coming on this strong there was no way he was going to like it. "Whaaaaaaat?"

"Please, just, come with us," said Susan.

"Where?"

"Just, come with us," Daphne repeated.

He shouldn't have. If they weren't even going to tell him where they were going, why should he go? He shouldn't. He absolutely shouldn't.

He did.

"I can't believe I'm letting you drag me down here," he complained as they went deeper and deeper into the dungeons.

"Oh, don't be such a worry wart," said Susan chipperly. "It's not that bad."

"Then why won't you tell me where we're going?" Her refusal to look him in the eye said it all. "If this is some sort of trap Susan, I am going to give you such a spanking later."

He smiled at her reflexive yelp, but then Daphne had to get in on it. "And what about me? Will I get a spanking too?"

"You're getting one regardless," said Harry, which just made her smile bigger. She wouldn't be smiling when she actually got it, he thought.

They finally reached their destination, and Harry was feeling more than a bit lost. In all his roaming's he was almost certain he'd never been in this part of the castle before. And that was saying something.

"In here," said Daphne, opening a creaky looking door that did not creak.

"You first," he countered.

She smiled at his caution and stood in the doorframe, beckoning him in. With great trepidation, and the wand up his sleeve slowly sliding into his hand, he followed her. Ready for any trick or attack, he was surprised when nothing happened except Susan sliding in behind him and closing the door.

"Harry Potter."

A chill ran down his spine and he looked for the speaker through the dark. A single candle lit, revealing a small table, and a single chair occupied by a slender woman he did not recognize. Judging by what he could see she must have been older, probably seventh year.

"I wondered if you would come. So, you are weak to feminine wiles after all."

Her smile was faint, her tone playful. If she was trying to be disarming, she was succeeding, but Harry was no fool. He gripped his wand tightly, ready to fight. "If you don't mind my asking, was there any reason you thought I wouldn't be weak to their wiles?"

"Oh, just rumors," she said with a flippant gesture.

"I don't think I like these rumors."

Her tinkling laughter filled the room and Harry had to shake his head not to let it distract him. "You really are quite charming," she said, setting her wand on the table and approaching him. Her hair, pale blonde, was long enough to reach her knees and swayed gently with each step. Staring hard through the dim light he could just make out the color of her eyes, icy blue.

"Who are you?"

"Anna DeWinter," she said, performing an elegant curtsy. "I thank you for meeting me."

Normally he would have mumbled something like 'no problem' but he held it back. She was Slytherin, and more importantly and older Slytherin. She had more going on in her head than Draco, and she was very pretty which for him, the teenage boy, was very distracting.

"What do you want?"

"You." She openly laughed at the way he flinched back. In his embarrassment he couldn't blame her. "Oh goodness that was precious. You'd think I just said I was going to light you on fire."

He certainly felt hot enough to spontaneously combust, "Why did you bring me down here?"

"Not for that," she said, alluding with a single well-articulated brow, exactly what he'd been thinking. "If I wanted you for that, I'd have brought you somewhere nicer, like my bedroom."

He fought down the urge to run but it must have shown. Her smile was both sweet and predatory and he felt the mouse being toyed with by a cat. A sexy cat.

"You just going to tease me all day, or did you actually want something?"

The way she looked at him she seemed to be considering it. With an artful shrug she touched his shoulder and directed his attention to a large bureau on the wall. "Can you move that, just into the corner."

He doubted that was what she'd brought him for but if it would move things along. He raised his empty hand, boring into the bit of furniture with laser like intensity. The bureau rose, slid down the wall, and gently settled into the corner.

Harry was surprised by the door he'd uncovered. The others were surprised by something else and all three openly gaped, even the cool, flirtatious Anna DeWinter. He didn't let it show but he did feel a little smug about that.

"You, I… Yes, well, that'll do," she said, recovering her composure; retrieving her wand and the single candle before approaching the door. "Come," she said, gesturing the door open with her wand.

Feeling a bit more confident about the whole situation he followed the older Slytherin girl into the next room. Her one candle provided little light, but it was more than enough illumination for what lay inside. Gold. "Blimey!"

"It's really something, isn't it?"

The room was massive at least four or five normal rooms long, just as wide, and the whole thing was dominated by a massive indent in the floor. A bowl perhaps ten feet at the lowest point, and all of it, pure, solid, glimmering gold. "What is this place?"

"No doubt you've heard of the famous Hogwarts magic sink."

He had; not that he really understood what it was, even as he stood there looking at it. The single light flickered and glinted off things other than gold, gemstones placed in intricate patterns all up and down the sink. In the dim light he could also make out a number of large cracks, some that looked big enough for him to stick his fist in.

"It's damaged?"

She nodded, "And empty. This should be brimming with magic, but as you see, nothing."

"Yeah, nothing," he said to hide his ignorance. "You think the damage happened when we came here?"

"Perhaps," she said. "There's more though, come."

Walking around the bowl, they came to another door, leading into a much smaller room filled with large stone tablets inscribed with runes. Harry hadn't taken that class so he couldn't make heads or tails of any of it but given where they'd just come from, he thought he had some idea what it all was.

"Ward stones."

"For the oldest most powerful wards in Britain. Once."

It was humbling to think about. How many people had stood where he was standing? Not many, he suspected, given how rough and shoddy most of the tablets were looking. A section from one of the smaller tablets seemed to have been ground clean off. All of them looked like they'd seen better days.

"I'll just come right out and say it. I know nothing about wards. Are they supposed to look like this?"

"No," she replied sourly. "It's absolutely shameful. Even without seeing them before the event, I can tell you these stones were in poor condition before we came here. I've seen neglected ward stones, and these are 'neglected' ward stones."

"Aunty would have had a fit if she saw these," said Susan, having snuck in with Daphne while Harry wasn't looking.

"Appalling. It's a wonder the whole array didn't fail in our first year," added the younger Slytherin.

"Can they be fixed?" Can we get the wards back up, being the question he really wanted to ask?

"No," said Anna. "We may be able to salvage some of them, but the wards as they were will never rise again. Not simply because of this, but we haven't the magic to power it and the sink is damaged. It won't hold like it's supposed to anyway."

"You think that's how we got here. Whatever it was used all that magic to send us?" Susan wondered aloud.

"If it did there is less than a snowball's chance in hell that we'll ever get back. I think most are starting to understand that anyway," said Anna, though Harry wasn't sure he agreed.

"Alright, I'm seeing and, sort of, understanding the problem," said Harry. "What I don't understand is what you need me for. I don't know the first thing about wards. I never even studied runes."

"It isn't your technical ability we need in this instance," said Anna, again with the hungry smile.

Uh oh, "Then what is it?"

"You saw the size of that sink, to repair it will take considerable material, expensive material."

"Yeah," was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. And if she was, how the hell had she heard about it?

"Daphne tells me you've recently found a large stockpile of 'materials' in your foray into Lord Salazar's chamber."

Of course, "Daphne!"

She was almost out the door when it slammed in her face. She hazarded a look back and found a pair of green eyes piercing her very soul. She tried not to whimper when he gestured for her, but she was a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. "I'd just like to say in my defen…" she started, only to be silenced by a finger against her lips.

"I think you've said enough."

He struck with impossible speed, spinning her around, she yelped as the sound of his hand echoed across her behind, "Yeep!"

"You knew this was coming," he whispered in her ear, before giving her another one across the other cheek.

"Oo, how do I get one of those?" Anna teased.

"Yipe!" went Daphne when Harry's hand jerked across her bottom again.

"Keep talking and we might find out," he growled, his whole body wound tight as a spring for several reasons.

The older Slytherin girl laughed, sauntering up to Daphne and laying her chin on the younger girl's shoulder so she could stare at Harry. "But seriously, I do need your help with this. So, what's it going to take for me to get it?"

Get it? If she kept looking at him with those burning blue eyes, oh Merlin! "Yipe!"

"Sorry. Reflex."


	7. Chapter 6

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 06 – Making it work

…

The sun crested the horizon as the second moon of the evening faded in the first rays of early spring sunshine. Illuminated, vast stacks of wood cast long shadows across discarded tools and uncut timber which lay patiently, waiting for the blade. A gentle trail of smoke wafted from the castle, the kitchen fires cheerily burning as witches bustled about preparing food, ignoring for a moment the small set of discarded dishes from those early diners now gone about their business.

And, in a darkened classroom, lit by only a pair of candles, Harry hung from a bar on the wall, lifting and lowering himself with calculated precision. Along his arms and back golden lines traced strange blockish patterns, flaring with the working muscles to benefit his cause.

"Twenty-seven… Twenty-eight… Twenty-nine…"

The room was a clutter of random objects strewn about in obvious haste. There was purpose to this, as nothing was what it actually was and would be again once the spells wore off.

"Thirty-three… Thirty-four…"

His morning practice had been ramped up several notches in the last week. Hammering four years worth of transfiguration made quite a mess, but it was necessary as he prepared the last bits of a potion, bubbling in the corner, that would show him his animal form.

"Forty-two… Forty-three…"

And just because he was mastering his transfiguration didn't mean he had sluffed on everything else he was doing. He'd finally achieved physical enhancement with the enhancement magic the twins had found for him not one month prior. It was amazing to him; he'd never learned any magic so fast. It wasn't just a single spell like when he'd learned '_reducto_' for the tournament. This was an entirely different sort of magic.

"Fifty-seven… Fifty-eight… Fifty-nine…"

Progress. He was making progress. Now if only he could make some progress on escaping those horrible females that kept draining him of all his water at the end of the day. That would be real progress.

"Seventy-eight… Seventy-nine… Eighty!"

Arms going numb, he released the bar and dropped to the floor. Enhanced; it didn't mean perfect, only better. Better for his body, which couldn't do a single pull up on its own was eighty. It had started at ten, but that was mostly concentration. Before learning to enhance himself he'd barely moved when working on enhancement magic.

"And how are you coming?" he mumbled to his potion, giving it a quick look just in case before crossing the room to where he'd left his water, as far away from the potion as possible.

Giving himself a very quick shower and his clothes a magical dry clean, He set the room to rights, returning everything to its proper form and proper place before sealing the room off and heading for the library. It was a brief detour before he went to the woodpiles, but he had to check on someone, and it wasn't Fred or George.

He found her with a single book open on the table, a pair of sherry bottles at two corners filled with blue fire providing light. They'd be using that gimmick on a wide scale soon. The girls on night duty in the kitchen had tried it out just the previous night after complaining how tired they were and how exhausting it was just to light their way back to the dorms.

The bluebell flame was a spell Hermione had come across their first year. A spell they were now putting to good use.

"Good morning Hermione," he said when she didn't look up.

"Oh! Good morning Harry," she started, too engrossed in her book to notice he was there.

She'd only been allowed back into the library three days prior, and only under strict supervision.

"Where is he?"

"Just on the other side of the bookcase," she said, not even needing to ask who he meant.

Raising his voice just a bit, "Good morning Neville."

"Morning Harry," came the reply.

Neville hadn't been the first choice, but after Hermione had exhausted herself again, while Ron was supposed to be watching her, Neville had volunteered; though only after a tearful Hermione had pleaded with Harry not to lock her in her room and spoon feed her for a week. Harry was surprised but he'd allowed it. Finding out his once timid roommate had carried a lightly protesting Hermione from the library to lunch and then back to the tower because she wasn't behaving had made him chuckle; confidently, he had left her in Neville's capable hands.

"Honestly, you don't need to keep checking on me like this. I'm not made of glass… I'm not!" she protested his incredulous look.

"Your right," said Harry. "Glass is not nearly so stubborn."

Before she could start complaining, he dipped down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, "Behave Hermione. I'll see you later."

He left the bushy-haired girl blushing in protest, but so long as she had the strength to blush, he knew she'd be alright. And as long as Neville was watching her, she'd stay that way.

Striding from the castle he was surprised to find Blaise Zabini waiting for him with a pair of first years. Curious, he took a calculated risk, left his wand in his pocket and approached. "Morning Zabini."

"Potter."

"What brings you out here this early."

"Heard you could use a few more hands."

So that was it. After a week he was beginning to think he'd been played. "Can always use more hands. You ever lifted an axe before?"

The Slytherin scoffed, "Course not. That's what I got this for," he said, displaying his wand, held in the middle between two fingers. In other words, not ready to be used.

Harry chuckled a little and calmly unclenched his butt cheeks. "And what about you two," he asked the younger Slytherin's hiding behind the older.

"We're… we're here to help," said one nervously while the other nodded.

Harry couldn't help but be impressed. The awe in their eyes was evident, or perhaps it was fear. He could only imagine the sort of things that were said about him down in Slytherin.

"Well, come along then. Plenty to do. I'll introduce you to the others."

There weren't many, but not many was still more than they'd started with. He'd added a pair of Hufflepuffs to his Gryffindors and just the day before a wandering Ravenclaw. The absence of any Slytherins up to that point, anywhere in the castle, had not gone unnoticed, and part of his eventual agreement with Anna DeWinter had been to change that.

He felt he'd gotten the better end of the deal with the Slytherin, though if he was being honest, he knew it wouldn't last. She was a Slytherin, and worse, a female which made her doubly evil by default.

Still, she'd thus far been good to her word. The final three ingredients to the animagus potion had been acquired through her, and now Zabini and his two tag alongs. If this kept up, he might have to change his opinion of Slytherin's in general.

Daphne Greengrass had certainly started the trend. Though he couldn't help giving her the side eye every time he saw her now as she had been getting way too into that spanking toward the end. It probably didn't help that Susan was asking when it was her turn, but the less he thought about that the better. He didn't need those kind of distracting thoughts while he was working around spinning blades.

The Slytherin boys seemed nervous on their trip to the forest. Thinking no doubt of the housemates they'd lost and having no idea exactly where or how it had happened. To their relief they collected the fresh wood without issue and headed back to begin processing it.

His lecture went a bit faster this time as he'd given it thrice before and had all the key points memorized. Making sure they were all working safely, he grabbed an axe and went to work on his own. This got Blaise attention, and little wonder, he didn't look like he ought to be strong enough to split anything with a single swing, but he was.

"How are you doing that?"

Rolling up his sleeves, he showed the Slytherin the golden lines that indicated his enhancement magic. "The twins found it. Been working on it for almost a month."

"Think I could borrow that book?"

"Well, I guess I'm not using it right now," he hedged. "It's just that it's the only one and… hang on. I wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"Luna said she was making paper," said Harry, more to himself than Blaise. "I wonder if she could make a copy."

"Luna? You mean Lovegood?" he said in a way that raised Harry's hackles.

"Yeah." The hint of defensiveness in his tone did not go unnoticed.

"Just making sure," the Slytherin backpedaled, nearly tripping over a stray bit of wood.

"Yeah, well," no sense starting trouble. "So! You ready to take a swing?"

"Do I look like a laborer to you?"

Refusing to let the snide attitude get to him, "Aw come on Blaise. You a Slytherin or a sissy."

"Oh, is that how it is!" The gauntlet was thrown down. "Give me that thing!"

His determination was impressive, even if his technique could use some work. Harry stayed for an hour before loading up his sled and heading for the castle. Before he went, Hagrid handed him a small stack of wood, lighter than the others with a papery sort of bark.

"Birch," he said. "First one I come across. Most a this is old wood. Proly gettin round ta hundred years I reckon. Ones like this, they don normly live tha long. You'll see tha Luna gets that, aye."

"I'll see she gets it," said Harry with a big stupid grin.

He'd been planning to find Luna anyway about the enhancement book, so this was no imposition. Seeing Luna anytime was no imposition, though he'd been doing it far less than in earlier days. She'd thrown herself into the paper making process, he hardly saw her in more than passing.

He knew where she was, he'd helped her set the room up. He just didn't normally have time to swing by. "Looks like that might be changing."

With a smile in his heart and a skip in his step he carried his 'special wood' down to the room Luna had claimed as her own. He knocked thrice, then twice, then waited for a response. When none came, he opened the door and peeked inside.

Organized chaos would best have described what he saw, or maybe just regular chaos. The room was filled with floating contrivances, pans and trays, things that were grinding, things that were crushing, and all in service to a single purpose which ran around the room in one long sheet that slowly rolled around a single spool.

"Bit busier than the last time I was down here," he muttered.

"Harry!"

Appearing out of the chaos Luna approached him, her hair full of bits and pieces which did nothing to detract from the genuine smile beaming from her face. A smile he couldn't help but return.

"I brought you a present."

Her look of disappointment would have been disheartening if it wasn't so adorable. "Well they're not exactly flowers are they."

A grin snuck through her mask of disappointment when he laughed at her assessment. "If you give me a second, I can change that," he said, drawing his wand and twitching it meaningfully.

"Hmm, no, I suppose this will do," she said, taking the small stack of wood and taking it to a table on the far side of the room. "Have you met my assistant?"

As if being mentioned had conjured her into existence, a mousy looking girl, perhaps a year or two younger, appeared out of nowhere. Her ginger hair was shoulder length and her brown eyes stared like she'd never seen his like before.

"Hi."

The single word brought a blush to her cheeks and a stuttering babble like he'd never heard.

"This is Ginger," said Luna, paying no heed to the inarticulate articulation. "Her father ran a muggle magazine, so I thought she'd like to learn it the magic way."

Muggle father, that likely meant muggle born, meaning that stare meant… ah ha, got it.

Placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention Harry gave her his best smile and calmly said, "Let's try this. Hi, I'm Harry. It's very nice to meet you."

Her blush went atomic at the physical contact, but the offered hand was too much for her to resist. "It… It's very nice to meet you," she stuttered like the blushing fangirl she was. "Can't tell you… excited, so, heard so much about you."

Harry tried not to sigh, but it was Luna who put his thoughts to word. "I told you he was nice. You really shouldn't believe all those silly rumors."

This time he did groan, "Rumor's again. Just what are people saying about me."

"All kinds of things," said Luna far too chipperly. "There's the one about you, Ronald and Hermione being in a kinky polyamorous relationship. Or the one about just you and Ronald doing BDSM."

Harry didn't know what BDSM was, but the way Ginger squeaked, "I feel like I don't want to know what that is."

"You don't," said the mousy Ravenclaw.

"You know though, don't you?"

Refusing to look him in the eye, "No knowledge is taboo in Ravenclaw, even if it should be," she said, clearly embarrassed.

"Right, I don't want to know." What was known could never be unknown after all.

"It's probably for the best," agreed Luna. "You'd never be able to look at Ronald the same way again."

Her grin was suspicious, but he knew if he dragged the topic out any longer, he'd wind up learning things he didn't want to. "On a separate note. I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Is it BDSM?"

"Eep!"

Sigh… "No Luna."

"Aw."

Brushing off her 'disappointment' Harry explained what he wanted, which led to a demonstration of what he'd learned, and Harry learning what it felt like to be a bodybuilder.

"Oooo!"

Kinda silly really.

"Harry, Harry, pick that up."

"Oo! Now pick this up."

He indulged them till he got bored and brought the conversation back round to the topic at hand.

"We should be able to do it," said Luna. "I don't know what the covers made of so I can't promise an exact copy."

"It's the contents I'm concerned with, that's all."

"Do we really have the materials to make a book?" Ginger asked.

"Sure," said Luna. "It won't be anything fancy, but we can make a simple book."

"What about the ink?"

"Hmm, yes the ink is a problem."

"Problem?" Harry asked.

"Huh? Oh no it's nothing, just thicker than I want it. The mix isn't quite right, but we've almost got it. You can count on us."

"Yay!" added Ginger.

Harry smiled as they began chattering between themselves about things he did not understand. It was nice to see such productive energy after so many weeks of slogging through. It may have been overly optimistic, but it finally felt like Hogwarts was coming back to life after a long sleep. Progress. They were making progress, and it could only go up from here.

…

Darkness was falling as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (Phew!) sat at his desk, tending to a pot of tea. It wasn't an activity he was well versed in, not anymore. He'd spent so long letting the house elves do it, which they did so happily and with magnificent skill, he hardly remembered how to.

Several chairs sat around his desk, each filled with the slumped figure of one of his faithful professors. Flitwick being so small was the only one sitting fully upright, even the usually well starched Minerva McGonagall was drooping. They all were internally, if not externally. The past several weeks had been arduous for all of them. Arduous, and ultimately fruitless which made it all the more frustrating.

"Am I doing this right?" he wondered aloud. A statement which could have been taken many different ways if any of them had been cognizant enough to answer.

He wasn't, not really, making the tea right that is. It looked dreadful, it tasted like hot leaf juice, not proper tea. If he'd had the strength, he would have chucked the whole thing, pot and all, across the room. Fortunately for the innocent pot, he did not.

"Sybil could have done it," he grumbled quietly, lamenting the condition of perhaps his most useless teacher whose sole skill was in her ability to make a good pot of tea. Any clairvoyant ability she may or may not have possessed was not a skill and thus did not count.

He hated it. The whole situation. The year had been going bad enough to begin with. Being magically transported to another world for no apparent reason and with no way to get back was not an improvement. Overall anyway.

And that was what they had found, what they'd spent so much time and energy to learn. Nothing. Nothing they hadn't figured out within the first couple days of their arrival. I mean the extra moon was a dead giveaway wasn't it. But he'd had to be sure. And now he was, nearly two months since they'd arrived, he was sure.

And it was the only thing he was sure of anymore. Having relegated himself and all but a few members of the staff to assisting in the endeavor, he had no idea what had been going on throughout the rest of the castle. The only thing that gave him confidence was that it hadn't fallen down. That had to count for something, and he was desperate enough to do so.

"Minerva… Minerva," he mumbled weakly.

"Huh, awah… huh, Albus? What?" she grumbled, barely conscious.

"It's time."

She stared blankly, "What time?"

"What time?" he asked as well, so tired that words were becoming difficult.

"You said it's time."

"I did? I did," he remembered. "It's time."

"You said that."

"Yes I did."

Coming around enough to be annoyed, "Time for what Albus?"

Her question confused him, but the author felt it would be gratuitous to drag this joke out too far so, "Oh, oh, ohoh, yes, I see. It's time. Time for us to address the students. Time to decide where we go from here."

McGonagall stared at her mentor and leader. Stared at him till her eyes crossed, uncrossed, then settled down. She glanced tiredly up to the window, scowled, "The students are all in bed Albus. Do it tomorrow."

With that said, she leaned back in her chair and began snoring loudly, mouth wide open. Dumbledore glared at the noisy record player waffling to the sound of sawing lumberjacks, but he found some sense in its argument.

"We can do it tomorrow. Tomorrow is good," he agreed, head dipping down to his chest where he joined the band on his nose flute for an all-night jam session that no one would be awake to hear.

Too bad really. It had a good beat, and you could dance to it.


	8. Chapter 7

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 07 – My Authority

…

He should have known it was coming, he really should. Things had been going so well. That alone should have been a huge red flag, at least to him. Things did not just go well for him without something going to shit. Karmic balance had to be maintained.

Morning had arrived, far too early, but with a delightfully confounding surprise. A warm, blonde Ravenclaw, snuggled next to him on the couch. He was beginning to think she was trying to give him some sort of hint. Sadly, being in possession of the standard stupid boy brain, such subtleties were largely lost on him. Her warm breath and cute sleepy noises were not.

Breakfast thus was a four-person affair. An affair in which he was teased mercilessly, as Luna no longer needed his wood. Words could not describe his disappointment.

Parting after breakfast, he proceeded to his training. A far less physical task, now that he'd successfully discerned his animagus form, the next step was in taking it. This involved much sitting and much thinking.

When he couldn't do that anymore he grabbed the bar and started doing pullups, getting all the way to two before engaging his enhancement magic and pumping out another ninety-eight. To some that would have seemed weak, but considering he'd not even been able to do one when he started, it was damn impressive.

Progress. He was making progress, and he left the room with a bounce in his step only to run into his favorite blonde again, who presented him with the first copy of the enhancement book.

He could have kissed her right then and there. He was still wondering why he didn't as he walked out to the woodpiles, the last to arrive. A sarcastic remark was preempted when he put the book into Blaise' hand and kept on walking, greeting Hagrid and the little woodcutters.

Work went smoothly, the universe's warning screaming in his ear, but he didn't listen. The good had gotten to him, filled him with feelings; hope, optimism, poisonous things like that. They were blinding him to the obvious, filling the warning bells with cotton.

Even the note that came floating down near lunch time calling everyone up for the meal, a clearer sign that something was going to happen, was taken at face value.

"Lunch!"

In comedic fashion, Blaise had to be led up to the castle as he had his nose firmly planted in his new book. It took all Harry's self-control not to let the younger boys lead him into a wall. But it was close.

He was surprised to find the great hall full when they arrived. Yet another warning sign ignored, finding his various associates all seated at the Gryffindor table, even those not in Gryffindor, distracting him from the clearly impending doom.

Harry planted Blaise next to Neville who sat with Hermione at the other elbow, a small book on the table before her. Dakota and Laurel were discussing something with George while Wizard stared fiercely at Crookshanks.

"Sit here Harry," said Daphne, patting the spot between her and Susan who smiled up at him so innocently he knew it had to be fake.

It was probably a trap, and well baited as Luna was seated directly across. Hesitantly, he squeezed in between them. Clearly, they'd left just enough room for him to do so. Clever girls.

"Harry," said Daphne as soon as he was seated, "I've been bad."

"And this is news?" not from what he could tell.

"I think you should punish her Harry," said Susan with far too much excitement.

"Not at the table please," said Anna, seated a few people down, talking to Fred.

"We should go back to my room," said Daphne.

"Mine's closer," offered Susan.

"Good grief," groaned Charlie Brown… I mean Harry.

Delighting in his suffering the two evil witches did titter wickedly.

A loud bang drew everyone's attention to the head table where Dumbledore stood, wand raised, flanked by every teacher and staff member save one.

"Good afternoon everyone. It's wonderful to see you all again."

"Could've seen us any time you wanted," Harry grumbled under his breath.

"I've just a few things to say before we dine. Firstly, after considerable and painstaking effort, we have concluded, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are no longer in Scotland. Nor are we on the British Isles, nor even our own Earth. No, we have, as it were, traveled to a whole new world."

There was a moment of heavy silence as these words sunk in.

"Tell us something we don't know!" shouted George, lightening the silence on a cloud of laughter right out of the room.

Never one to be bested so easily, "I have not changed my socks in three days."

George hung his head at the laughter around him, "Sorry for asking."

Grinning like the cat that got the canary, "It is good we have not lost our sense of humor on our long and strange journey. I believe we will all be needing it in the near future."

There was no smart remark to follow this.

"I would ask all prefects, to gather in the antechamber after the meal. There is much to discuss, and it will be to you we trust to relay the relevant information to the rest of your house. Thank you."

The appearance of lunch, a testament to the ever-growing skill of the new kitchen witches, was the signal for the murmuring to begin. The spread was larger than it had been of late, hardly a banquet but more than the rationed meals they'd been getting.

It was a distraction, effective against someone like Ron who lived by his stomach and was repulsing everyone around him with the way he devoured everything within reach. Harry however was not distracted. The shoe had dropped, and because he'd ignored the obvious signs, he'd caught it right in the face.

It was strange how easily he'd forgotten about Dumbledore, or Snape or Umbridge, when he didn't see them every day nor have time to anticipate when he would see them again. But there they were, sitting at the table.

His stare was intent, laser focused, as danger rung deafening in his ears. It was perhaps thanks to this intent, or other forces less well understood, that he noticed the peculiarities in his two least favorite instructors.

Snape, who always stalked about alert and ready to pounce on unsuspecting students looked tired; no, exhausted. He ate slowly, his movements sluggish, uncoordinated. Harry recognized the symptoms of sleep deprivation. A few months ago, that had been him.

And Umbridge, normally so calm and sure of her power, was glancing around like a nervous rat. Harry of course understood, it wasn't her own power that made her so smugly confident. As a witch she was two bit, on a good day. It was her ability to call down the power of the ministry that had her waddling the halls of Hogwarts like she owned them.

But all that was gone now. Dumbledore had merely confirmed what they already knew, the reality he had been operating under for months. No ministry, no authority, no wizarding world. They were on their own.

Dolores Jane Umbridge had good reason to be nervous.

Filch, like Umbridge, looked exceptionally nervous, which didn't appear to be having any effect on Mrs. Norris, or perhaps as a cat she was just better at hiding it (or just better in general).

Going down the table, the rest of the staff looked to be leaning more towards Snape's condition. The normally well starched Minerva McGonagall looked quite rumpled. Vector and Sinistra seemed barely cognizant, eating with robotic slowness; and poor Flitwick had simply fallen asleep in his chair.

In fact, now that he really looked at him, even Dumbledore seemed quite diminished. Less a great and powerful wizard and more a weary old man. The realization made the ungenerous thoughts he'd been having seem quite childish. He would have started brooding properly if not for the naughty girl at either elbow telling him to eat.

People trickled out of the hall slowly till it was just the prefects plus a few notable extras. The twins whispered in hushed and hurried tones with Anna before scurrying out. Neville remained by Hermione's side, loyal as the most faithful hound and almost as vigilant. She wouldn't let him sleep in her bed though.

Dumbledore called to those remaining and Harry made to leave when Anna took him by the arm, "Come," she said simply, and led him into the antechamber.

The place was much as he remembered it from fourth year, except someone had placed a single long table in the middle of the floor. Seats were swiftly filled, Neville helping Hermione into the chair next to Ron while Harry did likewise for Anna; not because he needed to, but the look she gave him suggested he ought to.

There may have been an 'or else' in there as well.

Across the table Draco glared; mouth opening for a snide remark shut with a hard click under the ice stare of Anna DeWinter. Harry resisted a smirk as everyone was seated and Dumbledore called the meeting to order.

"I thank you all for coming. We've much to discuss, many problems that doubtless need resolution, and I appreciate all your input."

"What is he doing here!" Umbridge input shrilly, glaring fitfully at Harry.

He could practically hear the 'just like his father' coming from Snape, but before it could escape to wreak its havoc, Anna cut in, "I asked him to join us."

Umbridge mouth worked like a pantomime cow, but Anna wasn't done, "Fred and George Weasley will be joining us shortly as well."

"Being a bit, presumptuous Miss DeWinter?" Snape scowled at the girl in a way he usually reserved for Gryffindor's with names ending in Potter. Unlike said Gryffindor's named Potter, she was entirely unfazed.

"The topic of discussion is the current state of affair, yes? And more than anyone requested at this meeting, they have been working to address the various issues confronting us. I believe their input may be of some value, don't you agree headmaster."

The old man returned her smile and nodded, "I value all input, "he said. "Our situation is too tenuous to dismiss any ideas, no matter where they come from."

It probably wasn't, but Harry felt the last remark was directed at him. Tell that to them, he wanted to say, but wisely stayed silent.

"I feel, the best place to start, would be to ask if there have been any further 'incidents'?" Snape flinched at the mention; they were his students, out on his order.

"Nobody's died if that's what you mean." It was a bit crass, but that is typical of the nature of things that just slip out.

"And I suppose we should all thank you for that," Snape sniped.

"If 'you' thanked me for anything 'I'd' probably die, of shock." See, again with the things slipping out. Crass.

There was a stifling of chuckles; Snape scowled so loud it could almost be heard, but all fell silent when Dumbledore cleared his throat, "May it be assumed that all are well?"

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," said Anna, receiving a round of nods from the other prefects.

"Then we can assume the creature that attacked them has not found its way to the castle?"

"It's dead."

Again, the room stared.

"At was at ruddy big snake you lads brought back wan'it?" said Hagrid, drawing the rooms stare.

"Ruddy big snake?" said McGonagall. "How ruddy big are we talking about?"

"Not as big as the basilisk in the chamber, but still big enough to throw me into the air like a ragdoll." And pull me apart like a wishbone, he chose to omit.

"It threw you into the air!" The old Scot looked positively scandalized.

"Fred too, or was it George," so hard to keep track.

"You said it was dead, Harry?" Dumbledore jumped back in.

Harry nodded, "It was touch and go. It managed to sneak up on us, and the way it moved it was nearly impossible to hit."

"I find myself more curious about this basilisk you mentioned. In what chamber precisely?" asked Professor Vector.

"The chamber of secrets."

"It doesn't exist!" shrieked Umbridge. "Nothing but a myth!"

Harry ignored the outburst but to shake his head in the negative.

"I wonder," Dumbledore pondered aloud, "if the chamber has come with us, what we might find."

"All sorts of things," said Harry, "right Hagrid?"

Hagrid chuckled till Dumbledore's quizzical look inquired, why? "Ee's talkin bout the acromantula sir."

"The what?" asked Sinistra.

"Giant spiders," Harry offered helpfully, glancing at Ron squirming in his seat.

"There! There are giant spiders in the castle?" squeaked Vector. Apparently, Ron wasn't the only arachnophobe in the castle.

"I hope you aren't letting them roam the castle," said Dumbledore.

"Right now, their guarding the entrance to the chamber. We let Toragog out once to help find something in the armory." Harry chuckled, "He did."

"Did he?" queried Dumbledore with a twinkle of curiosity.

"Armory?" asked McGonagall with a normal curiosity.

"The main entrance has been bricked over. We got in by a side entrance down a short narrow hall. It's pretty full."

"And what was it this, Toragog, found Harry?"

"A lizard," Professor Sprout jumped in unexpectedly. "They named him Wizard. Chatty fellow, very loquacious."

"The lizard, talks?" said one of the Ravenclaw prefects.

"Awakened," Hermione spoke up a bit weakly. "It seems to be a known phenomenon on the world he came from."

"You mean he's not from this world either?"

"Miss Granger, are you alright?"

The respectful, dentist daughter blushed under her headmaster's scrutiny. "I'm fine," she mumbled. Looking away she could still feel the headmasters gaze, almost as intently as Harry's.

"It would seem we've missed a great deal these past months," said Dumbledore. "So much to catch up on. Hmm, I wish we had something to write on."

"What about that?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes that ought to do. Thank you, Mr. Potter."

A flick of his wand took the old chalkboard off the wall; a moment searching drawers produced a box of chalk, and another moment passing produced two identical Weasley brothers with a trunk full of stuff.

"Sorry we're late."

"Horrible traffic."

"Damn pedestrians."

"Who taught them how to fly anyway."

"I did," declared Madam Hooch, to a much-needed round of laughter.

The meeting stretched well into the evening, most of the talking done by Fred, George, or Dumbledore. The twins had been working on a lot of things, more than Harry even knew.

Some he suspected he'd have found out about when they needed someone to test it. Others he'd never even considered, like the need for fertilizer when they started planting crops and the readiest source of dung they were likely to find.

That one got them quite a few disgusted looks, though Professor Sprout was much intrigued by their proposed solution.

Some mention was also made of Luna and her pulpous paper production. Harry let it slide, despite the mention being about toilet paper and it came from a Ravenclaw prefect. It wouldn't have been productive to pummel the fool then and there.

He'd do it later.

And the night dragged on, the chalkboard was filled and cleared several times as plans were made, discarded and remade till they looked like they might actually succeed.

Throughout it all Snape sneered and scowled, and Umbridge glanced nervously between bouts of shrieking till McGonagall silenced her. Something she was unable to undo herself.

Early the next morning they all staggered back to their respective sleeping places. Harry crashing on the couch across from Ron who slipped into a chair and started snoring before his butt had hit the cushion. Neville escorted Hermione to her dorm, staggering down a few minutes later and taking the other chair.

The meeting had been good. Much was said and it finally felt like there was an actual plan. No more jumping from one thing to another as it popped up, they had an actual direction. It was good. Harry felt good.

That should have been his first warning.


	9. Chapter 8

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 08 – Tension rising

…

A chill hung in the air, like laundry left out to dry. The weather was warming; spring just around the corner, and it seemed to be waiting there, bastard.

The cave was remarkably clean for a natural geological formation. The floor was smooth and neat as though the maid had only just been. The walls were more of a 'wall' a single arched surface.

This was less smooth. Huge gouges like angry scars stretched up, down, and across; and a series of them at the top marked the entire length of the cave, like whatever had once lived there had grown too big for the ceiling.

The scuffling of his shoes echoed in the vast emptiness, like a small mouse scampering for cover. There was a presence in the place like a watching cat. The chill he felt had little to do with the temperature.

He hesitated to light his wand fearing it might draw attention, which was stupid. The place was empty, nothing there. A quick flick, and the cave was filled to bursting with illumination, squeezing out the darkness which dragged the irrational fear with it. Properly alone, he surveyed the cave again.

"Nothing."

It was as he thought, empty. Or was it? A faint glint at the very back of the cave caught his eye. Kneeling into the little corner he found something wedged into a crease in the stone.

When his hands failed to even grasp the tiny shiny, he magicked it out. Holding his palm toward the wall, a moments concentration and the smooth surface cracked and split, freeing an object much larger than Harry had expected.

"Blimey!" Examining the thing in his hand he immediately recognized it as a scale. It was only a moment's thought and three turns of the hamster wheel for his brain to work out the manner of creature such a scale had come from.

All the other clues quickly fitted into place and after pocketing the scale, Harry decided it was time to go. The cave may have been empty, that didn't mean he wanted to wait around for that to change.

An alarm began chiming as he exited the cave. Time for him to be getting back. Today's expedition had a time limit. He groaned at the thought.

Snatching up his waiting broom he took a running leap and dove off the cliffside. Adrenaline surged as he plummeted earthward, but soon he was soaring straight up on a frozen rope. The Broom Restoration Committee had made good on their continued improvements. It still wasn't a Firebolt, not even a Nimbus, but it flew, and without a gorilla to wrestle.

He reveled in the prickle of cold air blasting him as he swooped and twirled through the clouds. He didn't want to go back. This was where he belonged; swooping through the clouds like a drunken kestrel.

He wasn't a drunken kestrel, not even a little tipsy. Still, there was one last thing he wanted to do before he went back to Hogwarts. It was reckless, dangerous, so he had to do it before he got close enough for anyone named Hermione to see.

With daring ease, he got his feet on the broom and stood. The flying vehicle bled speed quickly and for a moment, just hovered.

A deep calming breath and the broom began to tilt downward. Harry spread his arms, let his feet leave the broom, then, changed. The metamorphosis came quickly; he'd spent hours visualizing the process.

Much less time had been spent doing the actual transformation which was what made his stunt so dangerous. Limbs spread, he caught air and for a second there was nothing but him and the sky. Perfect.

A brief glance down revealed the broom descending, but slower than the dictates of gravity demanded. That would change shortly, he knew, and it was with a heavy heart he worked the reversal and angled his human form to the falling magic stick.

"You're late."

Harry looked at the young man trying very hard to look stern and nearly broke out laughing. "A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he intends to."

"Pull the other one."

The two of them laughed as Harry handed off his broom. "How was it."

"Still a bit chilly. Light clouds. Can't beat the view though."

"I meant the broom."

"Brooms solid," Harry said. "It's got about five seconds of hover once you let go, beyond that I'd say you've worked out the kinks."

"So, we should start re-enchanting in numbers?"

Harry nodded, "Time to tweak and modify later. Let's get'em back in the air."

Leaving the aspiring broom manufacturer to his work, Harry headed for his next engagement. The five intrepid hunters were waiting for him just outside the castle. Each had a small sack slung over their shoulder and a wand in their hand.

"Ready lads?"

They all gave an enthusiastic affirmative, and Harry led them past the woodcutting operation. He gave a wave to Hagrid as they passed who neatly bisected a bit of log before returning it. The group had added a few more but subtracted him. Blaise was now in charge under Hagrid, though Harry didn't feel like he'd gained anything giving that particular task to someone else.

He led his little troupe a short distance into the forest, well away from both the swamp and the area the woodcutters had been harvesting. In a small clearing, a lure stone sat, innocuous, inactive.

"Right then, I've showed you all how this works. Today we'll be hoping for something bigger than Mrs. Norris."

They all laughed now, though no one had been laughing when the mangy old beast had sauntered up during their demonstration and curled up around the alluring stone. Filch hadn't seen the humor either.

"Who wants to turn it on?"

After a quick round of rock, paper, scissor, the stone was activated, and they hurried into the specially prepared blind. They probably didn't need it; the alluring power seemed to block out all but the strongest external stimuli, but Professor Sprout had gone to all of the trouble to teach him the specialized topiary spell. Seemed wrong not to use it.

"How long do we have to wait?"

"Just be patient."

He understood their eagerness. A chance to actually use magic; it was being unable to do so that had made going back to the Dursley's every year so hard. He could handle the people, barely, but being cut off from magic had been unbearable.

His problem now was very different, and he found himself pondering on it with a dark expression as they awaited their prey. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, or at least he didn't understand it, the feeling.

It was bitterness, mixed with resentment and seasoned with just a hint of disgust. He'd been feeling it in turns ever since the 'adults' had re-exerted their authority and started taking command of the situation.

It hadn't been much at first, but every interaction, every order or giving of direction had fed the unnamed beast till at last he could no longer deny its existence.

He didn't know what it was, yet, but he was beginning to understand where it was coming from. It was the resentment that had clued him in.

What right did they have to be giving orders? They, who had abandoned them all for months, ordered them to stay in their houses, as he had come to find out. What right did they have to come back after that and just act like it never happened, like everyone should just maintain the status quo— because?

The feeling wasn't pointed at Blaise who had taken over a task he, Harry had begun. It wasn't pointed at Anne, cunning, crafty, plotting witch who clearly wished to use him for her own ends. It wasn't even directed at all those wicked little witches and their water lust.

When he thought of these it was with mild annoyance, tainted by a hint of fondness. It was when he thought of Dumbledore, McGonagall and the others the beast reared its ugly head, and it was ugly. Uglier every day.

He knew he needed to do something before it got out of control. He couldn't afford, whatever it was, none of them could. If they were going to survive, they'd only be able to do it together. Their only advantage was magic, though since that was also the reason they were in this pickle (dill) it sort of balanced out.

"Look!"

The whispered exclamation drew him out of his moody pondering, which is absolutely 'not' brooding, let's just get that clear.

A small rabbit had been drawn to the stone, followed not long after by a raccoon. The numbers began to grow as squirrels scampered down trees, a big old buck sauntered up, and a familiar swine trotted out of the wood.

"You again." Harry grinned wickedly. "Won't get away this time."

Careful not to spook them, Harry used the topiary spell to weave a wall to block their escape. It wouldn't do much for the climbers, but it would hinder the deer, and more importantly, the pig.

He would have his bacon.

"Pick your targets lads. Ready… fire!" Stunners flew and animals dropped; the rabbit, raccoon, a couple of squirrels. The deer was staggered but it took a quick follow-up to put him down.

That left the pig, and it did not go quietly. Harry hit him twice in rapid succession; he squealed in protest. Presented with its broad side Harry fired again three perfect stunners; he staggered but did not fall.

By this point Harry was getting mad; just what was this pig made of? He was made of ham and bacon and he would have it. He fired, again and again; nothing else in the clearing was still conscious but the pig refused to fall.

It swayed, punch drunk; flailed blindly at the wall with its snout, but it refused to go down. Marching out of the blind still throwing spells Harry stalked toward the pig. "You, will, go, down!" he growled, throwing one final furious stunner.

The pig swayed, turning to face him. "Snort," it snorted, taking a single step towards him.

"Oh forget this! _Petrificus Totalis_!"

Unlike his stunners, this spell worked. The pig made a startled hop as his body froze up, landing on its back with its legs sticking straight up like so much roadkill, minus the road.

"Finally!"

"That was one tough pig," one of the boys noted.

"You think their all that resistant to stunning?" asked another.

"I hope not," said Harry. "I love my bacon, but it shouldn't be this much effort."

It was quick work to stow away the small game in their little bags, but the big game. The antlers on the deer were more than a nuisance, they were dangerous, and the pig's snout alone was too large to squeeze into the tiny hole.

"I need to have a word with Fred and George." The bags were magically expanded on the inside, but what good did all that space do if you couldn't get through the hole?

A bit of quick thinking, a few long sticks and a lightening charm got them on their way. The four little carriers grunted under the weight, even with the lightening charm, but they didn't complain. They were good boys, Harry thought. They were adapting to the situation with surprising enthusiasm. It made him feel hopeful; the feeling pushing the unnamed beast into an easily ignored corner.

It couldn't last though; the beast would not be ignored. Rather like someone else strutting his direction with two burly bookends and a totally underserved superior smirk.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here."

Harry rolled his eyes; it was so tired, so cliché. Was he really so devoid of originality? "Chaps, you go on ahead and get them up to the castle before they wake up."

Not needing to be told thrice, never mind twice, the young hunters scampered off without a word, leaving Harry outnumbered three to one. Oddly, he didn't feel the least bit concerned.

"What do you want Draco?"

"Who says I want anything," the too well coifed blonde shot back snidely (whiplash).

Harry didn't answer, rhetorical question and all. That didn't mean he lacked for an answer. He'd seen that look enough times to know what it meant. Dudley had worn it often and Draco was very much cut from the same over fancy, over expensive, and overrated cloth as his cousin.

"Just out for a walk then, getting some air," said Harry with a blasé casualness that belied the sharp eye tracking the hunters progress toward the castle and away from the likely fight.

"We're part of the guard, Potter. Appointed by Madam Umbridge herself to keep Hogwarts secure."

The way he puffed up, proud as a peacock, you would have thought he'd said something impressive.

"If you're watching it, I'd call it insecure." Harry saw nothing to be impressed by.

His snide sneer filled with vinegar and Harry suppressed a smile. Had it always been this easy?

"Better watch it, Potter. Something bad might happen if you're not careful."

"Like your face getting any closer," said Harry, trying not to chuckle.

"Think you're so funny Potter," the Slytherin snapped. "I don't think you understand how dangerous it is out here."

It was a poorly veiled threat and it quivered like a flobber worm when a much better one shook the forest. The four boys as one turned to the trees, flocks fleeing into the air as they stared.

Crabbe and Goyle showed more animation than normal, shifting about, glancing nervously. Draco had gone from snarling mad to the sort of scared that made you talk like someone had an over firm grip on your nut sack.

"WHAT!... what was that?" he squeaked like an eleven-year-old Ron in the middle of an acromantula nest.

A rutting grunt and the sound of something massive shook its way through the trees. A fiendish squeal, familiar yet like nothing they had ever heard ripped through air and sent bowl draining chills running down their spines only just slower than the ones screaming 'CLENCH'.

The messengers continued to argue as the source of the noise came trotting out, shouldering aside grown trees like they were overgrown weeds.

"What is that!" Crabbe cried.

The mother of all hogs thought Harry. The pig from hell. The top of its back sat higher than his head and each of its twin tusks was larger than his whole arm. It stared at them with evil beady eyes, scuffing the ground with one cleft hoof. The snort from its snout was so hot it smoked.

"We… we, I…" Draco whimpered, raising his trembling wand, to do what, was anyone's guess.

It became a moot point when the pig squealed like an unholy aberration. Draco responded with a shriek that would have made a banshee moan in envy.

"RUN!" Harry shouted over the dying old lady, giving Draco a hard shove, which spurred the others into action and together, they ran.

The hog watched them a moment, gave a derisive snort with its massive snout. Scuffing the ground once, twice, it burst forward like it had been smashed in the backside by a giant mallet. The hog was on them in moments and only a quick dive to either side saved them from being gored and trampled.

Kicking up dirt and rocks it turned hard and came back for another pass, aiming for Draco and Harry.

"Go, run!" Harry cried, scrambling to his feet.

Draco tried but his fear had stolen his coordination and he fumbled around like an infant in the middle of a street staring down an eighteen-wheeler with a drunk driver and his cement shoes. Divine inspiration struck, a good but dangerous idea snapped in Harry's brain and he grabbed it with seeker quick reflexes before it could get away.

Latching onto the scrambling Malfoy he vanished, apparating with a passenger which was something he'd never done. They reappeared halfway up to the castle, tumbling in a heap on arrival.

Draco fumbled about confused while Harry gave his head a quick shake to clear it before making a quick inventory of his body parts. All accounted for.

Giving Draco a cursory once over it appeared everything was there which was good enough for Harry. He could hear the pig squealing furiously; the battle wasn't over. As much as he'd have liked to just run, he very much doubted the great pig would give up, and the castle was full of soft targets.

With a nod and a pop, he was gone again, reappearing exactly where he'd just been, only without a giant boar running at him. In his absence the monster hog had gone after Crabbe and Goyle who had made the poor choice of sticking together as they ran.

Harry threw a stunner at the pig's rear, but it didn't so much as flinch. Crabbe saw the hog on them, turned and pointed his wand.

"Avada…" he tried, but never got to finish. The boar swung its massive head; smashing the two boys aside they flew in opposite directions, skidding across the merciless earth.

His prey stunned, the hog slowed and approached the weakly struggling Goyle. Harry popped in just long enough to grab the Slytherin before he was gone again; to the consternation of the giant pig beast.

Harry dropped Goyle in the same spot he'd left Draco, who was no longer there, before heading back, appearing on the rear side of the boar.

Giving up on stunning the beast, and only briefly wondering why he'd tried in the first place, he threw a cutter at it. The spell had no apparent effect but to get the boars attention, and it zeroed in on him with fatal intensity.

A frozen instant; man and beast battled wills, a war of the eyes, fought in the mind. The boar realized it was out matched on this field and brought the fight back to one where it had all the advantages.

Hurling itself like a freight train of ill temper it closed on Harry who threw a well-aimed cutter at its eye, bouncing off the heavy brow. The boar trampled air as the sprightly wizard dodged and hurled a series of hexes and curses into the boar's side.

All connected with the massive target, none had any visible effect and the great hog came around for another pass. Harry waited till the last second before apparating around the back and hexing it in the rear.

The pig squealed angrily and turned to come at him again. Somewhere between the start of that turn and trampling his target under hoof, he was interrupted by a massive object slamming into his side with a mighty war cry.

"Hagrid!" Briefly awash with relief at the sight of his large friend taking it to the giant boar; it vanished quickly when the pig managed to keep its feet and turn to the new aggressor.

"Ow we doin Arry!" the half-giant called over his shoulder.

"Crabbe's around here somewhere!" Harry shouted, remembering the other Slytherin.

"Bess keep this wee lad down ere then!"

There was something in the way Hagrid referred to the massive hog as a 'wee lad' that gave Harry confidence; and the sight of his friend grabbing the beast by the tusks and forcing it to a halt gave him an idea.

Tucking his wand behind his ear, he dug deep as quick as he could, looking for the focus he needed to fortify. He felt it happen, like lightning poured into his blood.

A deep shuddering breath to bring the sense of elation under control; he burst forward with startling speed, slamming into the pig like a flying half-giant. The hog squealed in pain and protest and Hagrid used the momentum to force the beast onto its side.

In response the squealing beast lashed out with its cloven feet, knocking Harry back. One mighty toss of its head sent Hagrid stumbling and the boar was quick to right itself.

"Arry! You alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, and surprisingly was.

He'd never had either chance or reason to test the fortification magic in a fight. Nor did he intend to let the pig hit him again just so he could.

"Arry! We gotta kill it!"

"How? Magic just bounces off."

"Take is ead!" Hagrid shouted before the boar was on him again, leaving Harry to figure out the problem.

No small task. He'd thrown over a dozen spells, none of them had done a thing, and now he was supposed to take the things head. It's not like it was a log he could just saw it off.

… wait a tic.

An open palm abruptly slammed into his forehead, "Duh!"

He quickly scanned the area for transfiguration fodder; there wasn't much. They were up from the forest; the ground was rock and gravel with barely a twig or leaf in sight. The wood cutters had been distressingly tidy.

He focused on the gravel, visualizing the change, picturing it in his mind. Pebbles and stones began floating from the ground, coming together like puzzle pieces; very loud puzzle pieces. The pig threw Hagrid off and turned to see what all the noise was about. Something in the pig's brain screamed 'threat' and it responded as it did to most things. Squealing its challenge, it charged.

"Harry!"

He felt more than saw it coming. Lost in his work, mind's eye blocking bodies eye, the sound of his name broke through, situation was assessed, and he reacted.

The floating stones came together like an explosion in reverse; the rocky amalgam taking the rough shape of a fist before swinging out in a vicious hook. A broken tusk flew through the air and the swine staggered and dropped, stunned.

The fist reversed its reverse explosion, swiftly reshaping into something like a chain before rocks began to pop. The rough transfiguration was reshaping the rocks without the smooth step by step. It was ugly technique, pure force; McGonagall would not have approved, but it worked.

Glinting points ran along the inside; the chain began to move, rapidly picking up speed before snapping at one end. Flailing about it wrapped around the boar's neck, then proceeded to do what a chainsaw does, make a mess.

"Blimey!" As always, the half-giant had a way with words.

The boars head flopped free of its body; a bloody pool spreading from the gaping separation of head from neck. Without purpose, or Harry focusing on it, the crude but effective chainsaw fell to the ground, breaking back into its constituent parts.

"Well, that could, have been worse," Harry panted, wiping the sweat from his face, forgetting the consequences for tempting the universe.

"Vincent! Vin! Wake up!'

Gregory Goyle leaned over the unmoving form of his friend in a frantic panic. Exhausted, Harry and Hagrid did not hesitate to rush to his side. What aid they could offer they would, but it only took one look to know, he was beyond their aid. He was beyond anyone's aid.

"Vin. No… you can't. Vinny. Come on, wake up. Wake up."

It is strange how people in denial will try to coax reality to conform to their desire. Stubborn and obstinate as reality is, it seldom works, the coaxing that is. This time was no exception.

Others arrived soon after, as so often how it goes. Some might have been useful fifteen minutes prior. Some had never been useful in their lives.

There was a lot of shouting, fingers pointed, accusations hurled. It made no difference, not to him. The new world had claimed another Slytherin.

Vincent Crabbe was dead.


	10. Chapter 9

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 09 – Burn it down

…

Spring was in the air. Not literally of course, being a span of time and not a tangible thing one could hurl into open space, but you get the point.

The sun was shining, birds chirped their courting songs, which if you knew what they were saying, would have sounded like the most obscene ruckus outside a sailor's bar. Horny creatures' birds, and not the least bit shy about it.

Around Hogwarts, many of its inhabitants were taking advantage of the weather to get a look at their new grounds. A couple had even managed to scrounge an old fanged frisbee, disenchanted, and mostly toothless.

Harry watched them play, unable to share in their enthusiasm. Spring was springing but Harry lived under a cloud of melancholy, not entirely of his own making.

It was three days since the boar. Three days since he'd been accused of everything from summoning the beast to setting it on Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy. It was three days since Crabbe had died, his neck broken on impact. A quick painless death, the only consolation if death could be said to have consolations.

Snape had been apoplectic, more than usual, demanding 'justice' as he'd called it. Hagrid quite rightly pointed out the one responsible was already dead, but this was not enough for Snape. Once again it was a member of his house on the worse end of the world but this time, there was a Potter involved. A Potter could be blamed; should be blamed, punished, cruelly.

If not for Dumbledore's overwhelming presence the potion master might well have tried something, especially with Dolores Umbridge their goading him along while herself remaining carefully out of the line of fire.

As it was, all the shouting had come to nothing; both bodies had been collected and everyone had returned to the castle. But that was not the end of it, not for Harry anyway.

He'd discovered the next day he had a tail, though not a very good one, it didn't swish. The fact it was a Slytherin he was not acquainted with clued him in quickly enough, but it was only after a message from Anna DeWinter via Susan Bones that he knew for sure.

The Hogwarts 'guard' was nothing more than a rebranding for the inquisitors and he was being watched.

He cornered his tail, a feat most dogs would envy, and after taking the wand from the very surprised seventh year, he'd stared a blubbering confession out of him.

He hadn't seen that wizard since, but he was still being followed. His current tail was skulking just inside the massive doors, pretending she was so sneaky, and he didn't know she was there.

He let her. He had things on his mind and no immediate activity to distract him so he was pondering, darkly, but not brooding, which, as we've already established is something totally different which he does not do no matter what anyone may say.

The fight with the boar had been an eye-opening experience in many ways. Not since the giant swamp snake had he used so much magic to defend himself. It was amazing how quickly the fortification had come for something he'd been working on barely two months.

More than that, he was beginning to understand things, things he'd been taught, sort of, but he'd never really learned. Key among them, the importance of will.

Harry had a very strong will; to have survived his life up to that point without being a timid wreck it was practically a requirement. Crouch posing as Moody had proven as much too when he'd taught them the unforgivables. It was Harry, and only Harry who had thrown off his Imperius.

It also explained every incident of 'accidental' magic he'd ever had, because it wasn't an accident. Some part of him had wanted those things to happen, every single one. It wasn't an accident; it just wasn't controlled. Till now.

Hagrid was the one who noted the wand behind Harry's ear as they trekked back to the castle. The wand he'd put behind his ear when he'd fortified and attacked the boar. The wand that was still there when he'd made a chainsaw out of pebbles and put it to work for a purpose chainsaws were never intended.

The problem, so to speak, was that he'd never done transfiguration without a wand, externally. He could perform the animagus transformation wandless, but beyond that his wandless magic had been limited purely to telekinetics; and that still required immense concentration.

He'd mulled the problem for hours, gone back to his first-year books, reread the basic principles, attempted to learn magic in reverse, and the conclusion he'd come to, will.

It seemed so simple, explained so much, even wands. Wands were just tools, they helped teach children control, aided them in drawing their magic out. But then they never put them down; an aide became a crutch, the wizard a cripple. Wands allowed otherwise poorly focused and weak-willed wizards and witches to be passably competent at magic.

This was the conclusion he'd come to, there was just one problem. He couldn't ignore the other possibilities, the many diverging paths he'd passed along the way, and so he sat. He thought, and thought, he pretended the face inches from his head wasn't there.

The face was not having that, "I'm watching you."

Harry glanced to the side where bulging eyes stared with eerie intensity, "You don't say."

"You've been naughty, so I'm gonna wat'chu."

"Does that do it for you?"

"A little bit."

She got under your skin, that Daphne Greengrass, wheedled her way in and demanded you pay attention to her. She also had a face that let her get away with it.

"If you weren't cute, you'd be absolutely insufferable," said Harry.

Daphne grinned a Cheshire grin, getting off her hands and knees she sat down next to Harry, and by next to we of course mean practically on top of. "So, you think I'm cute, huh?"

"Did I say that?"

The Slytherin girl snuggled and cuddled, an activity he'd only experienced with Luna up to that point. She'd been doing it just that morning, not feeling the need to make an excuse she'd just mumbled in her sleep and burrowed into his chest.

It was a strange phenomenon; it worried him. Lavender had been giving him looks as well, looks with meaning. And he'd bumped into Cho the previous day; failing to remember what was said he did remember her smile and the way she so casually invaded his space. He remembered her hands stroking his arms and her body brushing against him.

He might have included his interactions with Susan Bones on this list, but he was pretty sure he'd seen her giving Ron the eye and teasing Harry was just something she did for giggles. Typical woman.

Sitting there, the silence stretched out like a lounging cat and his mind naturally drifted back to more serious topics. It must have shown on his face because his arm attachment noticed.

"Susan was right, you are broody."

"Huh? Wha, I'm not brooding." That was clearly established.

"You were so brooding!" her poking finger accused his face.

"I was thinking" he clarified around the noisy, pokey finger.

"Thinking in a dark and laconic fashion."

"Yes."

"That's brooding." And don't anybody pull out the dictionary and check that either.

"Oh, hush you." Her victorious smirk was silently loud and absolutely insufferable; he'd half a mind to teach her a lesson. Half a mind concocted a plan and presented it to the full council of the brain who placed their stamp of approval and ordered it be executed at once.

It was a relatively minor exertion of will, but the result was anything but minor.

"Yike!" Daphne exclaimed, bouncing at the pinch of her bottom. "What! Where? I, wha… you!"

He really needed to work on his poker face. It kept giving him away.

Daphne stared at him for a while, a neutral expression reflecting his dopey grin. "You know, some girls would be put off by that sort of thing."

"I thought you like it when I abused your rear."

She did, and she let a bit of the heat show in the curl of her lips. "You know, If I hadn't seen it, I'd never have believed it. Even about you. You really are just stupidly powerful."

Her remark elicited a frown, "It's not power," he said. "It's will. That's what I was 'not' brooding about."

She tittered at his obstinance, "Well, all I know is I can't do it."

"You could," he countered, which surprised her. "I don't think it's as hard as people say, they're just going at it wrong."

"Well, it's a nice theory," she said with forced skepticism, falling in love with the idea but too cynical to embrace it with the wanton passion she desired.

"It's the thinking that's the problem," Harry went on like he hadn't heard her. "Too much thinking. It gets in the way, I think."

Daphne laughed at the unintended joke, "You should test that, I think."

The universe agreed with the snarky female, and not just because it had a thing for snarky females. Assets were put into play to provide a suitable test and, just for funzzies, the difficulty was turned up to nine.

Harry became aware of the universe machinations when an enormous shadow passed over them. His blood turned to ice in an instant, he knew that shape, you never forgot. He didn't even need to see it.

He didn't need to look up at the slashing talons and ripping claws. There was no reason to admire the crimson scales or massive membranous wings. Feeling the hot breath, sulfurous rank flowing from its mouth was superfluous information.

He certainly didn't need Daphne screaming in his ear to verify he was seeing what he was seeing. He already knew. You never forgot your first dragon, or the second, third, etc. It was just, after your first dragon, all the others cease to be a surprise.

Fire hot enough to melt stone scorched a line across the ground, looking unlikely to go around the witch and wizard sitting in its path. This was no issue as they were magically gone before it arrived.

Harry dumped a staggering Daphne at the gates of the castle with an undisputable command to "Run!"

Obediently, and with gusto, she obeyed, dashing into the castle screaming for help. Harry left her to it, turning his attention back to the flying engine of fiery death.

It was winging around for another go, picking its target from those fleeing toward the castle. Harry watched it zero in on the frisbee throwers and stoop. He was momentarily struck by the grace of the red dragon, its sleek form knifing through the air, aerodynamic perfection.

Then its mouth opened, and the moment was over. Vanishing and reappearing he caught the two children in a flying tackle that vanished a half second before the flames arrived. Depositing them at the gates he heard screams farther off and saw a second dragon down by the woodpiles. It had someone in its claws, someone flailing and squirming and wishing they were anywhere else.

The first dragon was circling looking for new targets when the second took to wing with its unwilling passenger. It rose with startling speed; Harry made a running start before apparating into the trajectory of its ascent.

There was a moment of startled surprise as Harry appeared above the dragon. Surprise that is, from the dragon. Harry was exactly where he wanted to be; or at least where he expected to be.

He wanted to be snuggling on the couch with Luna, or just sitting outside the castle bantering with Daphne. But he was Harry Potter, and Harry Potters didn't get to have nice things like that. No, Harry Potters got to be in front of dragons rocketing into the sky like a fire breathing SCUD missile.

With the confidence, nay arrogance that comes of being a dragon, the crimson missile never wavered from its course. Lacking the arrogance, and fortitude of a dragon, Harry adjusted his plummet, so he slid across the dragons back. A flailing arm grasped for purchase, failed, and all of Harry Potter went sliding off the dragon.

He apparated midair, missing again and scraping the skin off his palm. He overshot the next one when the dragon leveled off, finally getting a hold on the fourth try when he was able to grasp the base of one wing.

"Harry!" the captive cried. It was one of the Slytherin boys that had joined the woodcutters with Blaise. "HELP!"

"Just hang in there! I'll get you!"

"Hurry!"

It already felt like he was. Everything was happening so fast he hadn't time to wonder about anything. The fact that his wand was still shoved in the back of his pocket didn't even occur to him; it wouldn't have helped for what he was about to do anyway.

The glowing lines of the enhancement magic stretched across his skin; precariously pulling back a single fist, he aimed a punch at the joint of the wing. A sudden updraft threw off his aim and he struck the arm of the wing.

The dragon jerked under the blow, nearly throwing Harry off. The Slytherin boy screamed as the dragon's grip loosened which didn't seem like such a great thing now that he was in the air.

The dragon turned to look at Harry just as his fist came down again, this time where he wanted it. The dragon lurched, screeching in pain. The only sound louder was the little Slytherin screaming as he plummeted earthward.

Harry rolled off the falling dragon and stooped after the younger wizard. His superior size, a hindrance while flying, was a boon when plummeting. Harry easily caught up to the young Slytherin and prepared for a very dangerous apparition.

He was forced into a midair dodge when he anticipated a gout of fire that would have turned the both of them to flying ash. The other dragon had joined them and was wheeling around as its companion struggled against gravity with only one wings worth of effort.

There was no way he could pull off an apparition under this kind of assault. He'd been pushing his luck already but this. He flipped over so he was looking down, praying for an idea. At the entrance of the castle he saw a familiar pair of gingers waving at him frantically.

In an instant, he knew what he had to do, and hoped they would as well. As the dragon came back around for another go, Harry launched the screaming Slytherin as hard as he could at the twins, leaving himself in the line of fire.

The dragon paid the other boy no mind, homing in on Harry; opening its vicious jaws which filled with wizard frying flames.

Harry rolled to dodge, but the dragon had anticipated this, and the stream of flame followed. In desperation he tumbled backward, taking the burn across his pants. The flame struck with physical force and since Harry had no traction it threw him away from the dragon.

Pausing for breath, it hesitated a moment in renewing its attack, breaking off and catching air. One quick look down revealed why. The ground was close, very close; put your head between your knees and kiss your butt goodbye close.

Death gave a cheery wave as he awaited Harry's arrival, yet he felt no fear. Or perhaps it was simply he felt so much fear the needle had spun all the way back around to calm.

He made a slight adjustment, so he'd touch down on all fours, then the ground exploded under his impact. A second impact followed moments later as the flailing dragon hit the ground. Its landing was surprisingly less spectacular than Harry's despite it being much larger, though this did not mean it got off easy.

The red scaled beast stood awkwardly, stumbling, pained. It raised its assaulted wing gingerly, flinching with the movement. The dragon glared at the dust cloud where its enemy had landed, finding its feet and stomping forward.

It had covered but half the distance when a form became visible through the smoke. With slow, measured steps it emerged from the dust cloud. His clothes were in tatters; the Weasley jumper he'd been wearing was nothing but a few clinging threads, and his pants barely preserved his modesty.

The glowing lines of the enhancement magic, normally gold had turned angry red, reaching further, weaving in more intricate ways as though fighting to hold him together. Even his eyes were rimmed in glowing red rings, a visual replacement for his obliterated glasses.

The dragon snarled and took in air. Harry slammed his hands into the ground and heaved out a massive slab of earth, glowing red with enhancement. The dragons flame brushed harmlessly against the stone, leaving barely a scorch mark.

When the flames receded, the stone split neatly in two and Harry hurled one half at the dragon. Cowering back the stone smashed against its body, several pieces striking its wing causing it to cry out. Harry heaved the other for a second assault but was forced to shield instead when the other dragon did a fly by, raining fire in a long hot line.

The dragon turned quickly for a second pass and Harry adjusted his defense. He waited for a third pass, but it never came. The dragon touched down, cat like in its grace and approached the other who mewled pitifully.

There was a moment where the two great beasts seemed oblivious to their surroundings as one examined the other with unexpected tenderness. Growling something it nudged the other, gesturing with its head. The other obeyed submissively, stretching its wings painfully and taking to the air.

The one remaining turned to Harry as the other fled. It waited till the other was some distance before spreading its wings to follow. But before it did, it had one more shock for the denizens of Hogwarts.

"This is not over between us," the dragon roared, loud enough for the whole castle to hear.

With a single stroke like a thunderclap, the dragon ascended, following its companion up the mountain.

"I'll be waiting," he whispered, tossing aside his half-melted shield and gazing up the mountain where he knew a certain cave to be. "So that's what's up there," brilliant.

Shaking his head, he trudged toward the castle. His body was burning, enhancement lines flowing ominously. He was at the end, running on empty; if he didn't sit down, he was going to fall down.

"I'll make sure he's okay," he mumbled as he neared the door, "then I'm going to bed." It was a wonderful plan, so simple, practically idiot proof.

One look at the people waiting for him and he knew it was no good. "Where the hell were you five minutes ago." Emergency protocols having rerouted power from verbal filters in the give a damn module, he was blunt as a hammer with the wizened old headmaster flanked by his faithful second.

The presence of Snape and Umbridge was small surprise, if only because he'd expected the toad to be hiding under her desk.

McGonagall tried to usher him into the nearest antechamber only to find, in his enhanced state, she would have had better luck ushering the dragon. Growing lethargic, he allowed himself to be moved. The moment the door was closed the yelling started. Pomphrey and Hagrid came in shortly after followed by Flitwick and Vector.

Harry sat silent for a time as the adults debated over loudly. He wasn't sure what any of it was about, but it seemed he was once again being blamed for forces beyond his control. How quaint.

Growing tired of the whole thing Harry raised a fist and brought it down on the table. The table made an awful crack as it split right down the middle and collapsed. That got their attention.

"I just have one question," he said with hollow calm. "Is he safe?"

The whole room stared but it was Pomphrey who asked, "Is who safe?"

"The boy I saved from the dragon," he replied. "Is he alright?"

"Uh, I'm afraid we don't know Harry." There was shame writ on Dumbledore's face, and his wasn't the only one, but Harry was too far gone to notice.

"You sit here and harangue me, and you don't even know if your students are safe." He roared fury as hot and fierce as any dragon, but he was not a dragon.

Limit reached, the red patterns began to crack, pain consumed him, and Harry collapsed.


	11. Chapter 10

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 10 – The last bundle of straws

…

"Now you remember what I said?"

"Yes, Madam Pomphrey."

"Minimal magic, and absolutely no apparition for at least another week."

"Yes, Madam Pomphrey."

"And I don't want to see you lifting anything larger than a book, you understand?"

"Yes, Madam Pomphrey."

"And I don't mean one of those enormous monstrosities Ms. Granger likes to carry around either, you understand?"

After a full week in the hospital wing, Harry had come to understand there was only one right answer to that question, "Yes Madam Pomphrey."

"Well, good."

Harry tried not to grin at the mother henning medi-witch, she'd take it as cheek, and he'd be there for another week. He wasn't sure he could handle that again, not on his own.

He had a great deal of respect for Poppy Pomphrey, and not just because he suspected there'd be an 'or else' if he didn't. When you spent as much time as he did, being torn apart like a cheap scarecrow by the world and its various idiots, you couldn't help but respect the person who managed to keep putting you back together.

He knew the reasoning was different for Hermione, naturally respecting authority. She'd been in the bed next to his for three days when she collapsed again, and Neville carried her in weakly protesting. Neville had just told her to hush and behave. It was the funniest thing he'd seen all week.

Despite having an inherent respect for most authorities, she was a terrible patient. "I'm fine. You don't really need to do that. Is this really necessary. What do you mean put the book down?" You'd think the daughter of two dentists would have been better behaved.

"Now, if anything feels, off, you will come see me."

"Yes, Madam Pomphrey."

"None of your cheek Mr. Potter." Dammit! Stupid face, giving him away again. "I've far too little to work with to be having any of this stoic foolishness."

Much of her stores had been damaged or destroyed on their arrival and without access to a source of ingredients they had to be very frugal with their potion making. Yet another thing for Snape to be sore about.

"I understand," he said. "I'll try and keep the dragon wrestling to a minimum."

It was cheek, big stupid grin and all. Must have been one of those infectious grins because the magnificent medi-witch struggled, but ultimately failed, not to return it.

"Oh, really Mr. Potter."

Properly embarrassed, the medi-witch bustled back to her office. This left Harry with the only other person in the hospital wing; someone who'd been there even longer than he and yet somehow had not warranted a plaque over her bed.

And Poppy said he was cheeky. Where she got the plaque with his name on it, he didn't know but he strongly suspected Fred and George were involved.

Sliding out of his bed, he carefully meandered over to Sybil Trelawny's bedside. She hadn't woken since she was discovered unconscious in her tower and didn't look like she planned to change that anytime soon.

Trelawny had always been thin looking but spending months convalescing, completely motionless had done her no favors. Her thin features, normally hidden behind her strange bug-eyed glasses, were positively gaunt. She looked like a cadaver someone had forgotten to bury.

It was a morbid fascination looking at her, wondering just what had happened to her. It was probably the most thought he'd ever given the woman. He turned to go back to his bed when a hand jumped out, grasping his wrist like an iron manacle.

"The road is long; the path is wide."

"What!" His startled exclamation coming not from the words pouring out her mouth, but from the glowing eyes, all three of them, gazing out of her face.

"The road is long, the path is wide," she repeated. "Stand not alone who stand astride. Mark the guilty with innocent heart. Shun faced innocent, their guilt be their mark. Build ye up or tear ye down. Hark to the wind, thy name resound. The road is long, the path is wide. Stand not alone who stand astride. All roads meet at the end."

Her grip slacked and her body wavered as the glow faded and Harry looked into the eyes of Sybil Trelawney, just two of them, who looked back in mild confusion. "Mr. Potter. Is it time for class?"

Weakly, the woman with the strong third eye pitched forward, and Harry was forced to catch, "Ack!" an activity he was in no condition for.

"Arry! Arry, you in here?"

"Ron!" his ginger friend casually strolled in, giving him an odd look as he struggled under the weight of their least competent teacher. "Don't just stand there like a lump, help me!" he barked. "Madam Pomphrey!"

"Geez, what a ruckus," Ron complained as they left the hospital wing. "She just had to wait till I was there to finally wake up.

"Like sleeping beauty. Ey prince charming."

"Ew!"

It was good to be out of the hospital wing. Harry just wished he'd been able to do it before Trelawney woke up; before she spoke those words in that voice and stared through him with three glowing eyes.

"She say anything when she woke up?"

The words still echoed in his head. "Like what?"

Ron shrugged, "I dunno, something prophetic I guess."

"Hoping to divine your future?" Ron had shown in the past he wasn't above believing in that sort of thing. Should he tell him? Would he understand?

"Not really, it's just, ya know Susan? I think she might fancy me."

Harry hid his sigh behind a smile and a chuckle, "Really? I hadn't noticed." He wouldn't tell him. He and Ron had been faking their divination homework together since the beginning. Ron wouldn't understand any better than he did. The inner eye was not with them.

Not that he needed the inner eye to know what awaited him as they strolled into the library. Hermione had informed him of his fate before she was cleared to leave. The only reason he'd avoided it at the time was because Madam Pomphrey was watching.

But it wasn't Hermione who met them just inside the doors, "Wotcher boys," it was Fred and George.

"Harry!"

"Old chum."

"Meteor man."

"Dragon Lord."

Harry hung his head in shame as they carried on like the overstuffed hams they were. "Are you two about done?" Ron cut in when it looked like they'd keep going.

"No patience this one."

"What does young Susan see in him?"

"No need to ask what he sees in her."

"She's not trying to hide them."

"Lads, I think that's enough." It's not that he didn't appreciate Susan's… personality, but there were boundaries; good tasted insisted.

"Right then, nuffa that."

"Would you walk this way Harry."

'If I could walk that way' was on the tip of his tongue as they slung their arms across his shoulders and led him into the library. It continued to sit there when he realized Ron was not following them. A quick glance back revealed him struggling to remove his feet from the floor and cursing loudly in absolute silence.

"What's going on?" He wouldn't put it past the twins to pull a prank on him while he was weak and defenseless, but that wasn't the feeling he got when he looked at their unsmiling faces.

"Not yet."

"Wait till we're safe."

Safe? What the hell! Just what had he missed?

Silently the twins led him to a small innocuous corner. Fred waved his wand at the plain looking bookshelf which slid aside silently. The room within was large, filled with rows and rows of shelves filled with tons and tons of books.

The lost shelves, Hogwarts secret library; he knew the twins had found it after the magic in the castle failed, including the obscurations that kept people from finding the hidden library. He'd never been, but by the look of things the twins had moved most of their projects into the secret space.

Harry waited till the entrance was closed and he'd found a seat before making his inquiry again. "Alright, what's going on? And why did you silence Ron and stick his feet to the floor?"

"In our defense."

"We've never really needed a reason to do that."

"Though that's not to say we didn't."

"Have a reason that is."

"Which is?"

The twins looked at each other like they were hesitant to answer. "Our dear brother has found employment working for the headmaster."

"Okay, doing what?" he asked, fearing he'd not like the answer.

"Spying on you."

Harry stared, disbelieving, "You can't be serious." It was more a plea than a statement. Please don't be serious.

"He didn't say it out loud."

"Watching out for you, that's what he said."

"That doesn't sound like spying," he countered weakly.

"Unless Dumbledore's the one that told him to do it."

"And you look like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar when you say it. He did."

He didn't want to believe it, and yet, "Just what the hell has been going on all week?"

A lot, he learned as he sat there and listened while they filled him in. It was rather like being Rip Van Winkle after is big snooze, waking up to find the world you'd left had been turned on its head.

Someone had been spreading rumors while he was sequestered. Because you could take away the magic, but the rumor mill had no need for such to run; and given the nature of the rumors one needn't be the brightest witch of her age to know who was starting them.

The whole thing stank of propaganda; the sort of propaganda he'd been assailed by since meeting Dolores Jane Umbridge. The only glimmer of light was that no one had been seriously injured in the attack; even Eric, the boy who'd been snatched by the dragon, was largely uninjured.

Nervous and adamantly refusing to leave the castle, but whole, and with no new holes.

The light vanished behind dark thunderous clouds when he asked about the book. "Say that again."

He ground his teeth as they explained how Umbridge had confiscated the book then promptly destroyed it. "Too dangerous to have around children," she'd proclaimed. It was lucky he'd been unconscious at the time or he'd have wrapped his hands around her corpulent throat and proved her right.

"I needed that book," he said. Things had happened he didn't understand, and he hoped the answer was in there somewhere.

"Nothing to be done about it."

"Terrible shame. Here, try this one."

The book Fred handed him was unfamiliar until he opened it and started reading. "This is… but I thought you said."

The twins grinned, grinned like they'd just pulled a marvelous prank. Looked familiar. "Our local inquisitor demanded 'the book'."

"Assuming there was only one."

Realization dawned and Harry grinned as well, "Blaise."

"Has not revealed the existence of his copy."

"Which we used to make a couple dozen others."

"Wicked." At last, a ray of hope to hang onto, if light or hope were a tangible kind of thing.

"Luna also made you this."

"With our help."

Reaching into his pocket, George produced a small, semi-ornate book. He placed it in Harry's hand who found it surprisingly light which wasn't the only surprise; George tapped it with his wand, said, "Grow," and the tiny book turned into a massive, heavy tome, although it didn't actually gain any weight.

"What the…" The shock he wore on his face dribbled out his mouth, much to the twin's amusement.

"Integrated featherlight charm."

"Necessity really, it's bigger on the inside."

"Just kept crammin paper in there till we ran out of paper to cram."

"You two have no self-control at all, do you?" Harry chuckled.

"Sure we do."

"But only enough for one."

"We have to share."

"Didn't you have it last Fred."

"Me! I thought you did George."

There was something about the twins, something in their presence that just lightened the mood. He needed that. Especially when a quick look at the map, still under construction, and in 3d, revealed Ron was on the move.

They snuck out before he could find them, as he did not know where the secret library was. Stealthily they crept around the nearest bookcase, watching Ron disappear around the other end before scuttling around to make their escape.

"Ehem!"

The trio froze, then wilted like snowmen under the merciless eyes of spring. "Hermione," Harry tried not to whimper, "and Daphne."

The two females of opposing houses stood united, their penetrating stared combined into a frightful force so powerful it transformed Harry into a frightened tiny wee rabbit, figuratively of course. He felt a moment of sympathy for Peter Pettigrew of all people; understanding how he must have felt every time he was in the same room as Crookshanks.

"Girls, please, let's be reasonable," he begged, looking to left and right for support only to discover the twins had vanished. Bastards.

"You knew this was coming Harry," said Hermione, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently.

"Do be a man about it Potter," Daphne scolded, arching a single well-manicured brow.

There was no point in running, even if he weren't still recovering. They'd find him. They were persistent like that.

With a resigned sigh he spread his arms in surrender, "I submit." Two seconds later he had a pair of witches trying to squeeze the daylights out of him, as Hermione had promised, while berating him for being such a stupid, reckless… BOY; and he better not worry them like that again or he'd really be in for it, and, and… they were just so happy he was okay!

He'd known he was getting this from Hermione; and when he thought about it, Daphne wasn't really a surprise. She had been right there for the dragon attack. Literally right there, almost turned to ash without the use of magic.

He knew it was coming, which had done him no good in avoiding it. Even Ron, who was apparently supposed to be looking after him, was completely useless when he did turn up; standing there uncomfortably while the two witches blubbered all over his shoulders.

"Thanks a lot Ron."

"What was I supposed to do?" he said that night after failing to shoo away the girls of Gryffindor when they came for Harry. He was only saved from a good water draining when Hermione strode in with Neville and told them quite firmly, "No," in her best McGonagall; the one with a very scary 'or else' in the subvocalization.

It was late evening, and everyone else had gone off to bed, leaving only Harry and Ron in the common room. Harry was reading through his new copy of the enhancement book, trying to understand what had happened to him and what he was still doing to his eyes thanks to the obliteration of his glasses. Ron was sitting across from him not doing much of anything but yawning.

"Why don't you just go up to bed Ron?" said Harry as the sound of yet another jaw cracking yawn drew his attention.

"Nah… ah. I'm good," the ginger yawned.

"You don't need to stay up with me."

"S'alright."

No, it wasn't. He'd not thought about what the twins had told him earlier, hadn't wanted to think about it. Now, he could think of nothing else.

"Ron, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"No!" he said too quickly, coming fully awake. "No, uh no, no, nothing I can think of."

Liar, Harry thought. His ears were practically glowing red, and his eyes had gone so shifty even a paranoid weasel would have told him to relax.

Harry didn't go to bed that night, falling asleep in his chair while reading. Ron didn't go to bed either, drifting in and out of sleep till Harry finally drifted off and he felt he didn't need to stay awake anymore.

Harry rose with the twins who tied their brother's shoelaces together before heading down to breakfast where he was once again berated for being a stupid, reckless, BOY, this time by Susan. He felt the whole thing was getting old, but since she did this while squeezing his head firmly between her 'rolling hills', he let it slide.

Ron caught up halfway through breakfast, rubbing his nose but refusing to say why no matter how much his brothers cackled; and the rest of the meal was spent enduring Ron's incredibly awkward flirting with Susan. Who knew you could make a fool of yourself in so many ways in such a short space of time?

Harry and the twins left the kitchen while Ron was still eating, and it wasn't but a few minutes later that he came running down the hall to catch up. He wasn't subtle that Ron Weasley, which made him a terrible spy. He also couldn't bluff to save his life which made him even worse.

And thus, the tone for the day and those that followed was set. Wherever Harry went, so too went Ron, like a shadow; a very loud shadow; a very loud, clumsy shadow; a very loud clumsy shadow that kept losing the feet it was attached to.

It annoyed Harry that his best mate was reporting on him; a thing he did each day right after lunch. What was worse though was how badly he lied about it. Harry had only asked him twice, unable to tolerate being lied to a third time.

As such, he felt little remorse in punishing Ron by making him chase. He couldn't do much magic at first, but it was enough to escape his 'friend' and send him scrambling to find him.

He didn't do it often. He hadn't time. He'd started a project with Hermione to make some use of Luna's present. As gifted, it had one major problem; with all that paper it had ridiculous storage capacity. So ridiculous Harry wondered how he'd ever be able to find anything.

He hadn't told this to Hermione. He was afraid of what the little bibliophile might do if she knew about his book. He'd simply worded it in a general sense, which had been more than enough since this was something Hermione had thought about in depth since starting at Hogwarts and just never had the time to pursue.

Now she did. Now they did; they, including Ron despite his protesting, and Neville, who was there and had nothing better to do.

With four of them working on it, the project advanced quickly. The twins came through too when they found a collection of spells penned by one of the previous librarians; though they neglected to mention where they found it; which led them to consulting Madam Pince who proved a wealth of information, even teaching them a special copy spell that used magicked charcoal to create a lasting replication and a way to spell the pages to prevent smudging.

All of this meant a lot of testing, a lot of failing, and a lot of paper. Ron didn't know where Luna's workshop was, and since Harry knew Ron didn't like Luna, he took opportunity to lose Ron along the way each time and collect him on the way back.

It annoyed Ron but Harry didn't care, and seeing Luna only made him care less. There was something there between them, like a wall or… no, no not like a wall. It wasn't keeping them apart, quite the opposite. A chain maybe… nah, that's no good, I'll keep thinking.

As Harry was always happy to see Luna, Luna was always happy to see Harry. Happy enough to greet him as soon as he opened the door, covered in paste or ink or whatever, she was just happy to see him.

Which was nice since the rest of the castle seemed to be headed in the other direction at breakneck speed. It never ceased to amaze him how easily people could be influenced, nor how much could be said by complete and utter silence. Since that's what most people were doing when they saw him walking the halls.

Notable exceptions being Susan and the kitchen witches who knew him well enough and had a firsthand witness in Daphne. Laurel, Dakota, and Wizard who'd developed a bit of hero worship, though only a little. And of course, his… allies in Slytherin, all of whom understood a smear campaign when they saw it.

Sadly, there was little they or anyone else could do; people would believe what they wanted no matter how senseless or backward it was. Magical thinking.

In a way it was fortunate this sort of thing had typified his time at Hogwarts; made it easier to deal with now, if only because he had so much practice. And part of that practice was to find and enjoy the little things.

Like the company of friends, even if one of them was spying on you. A good meal, even if the portions were rationed and you spent the whole meal being stared at. Or waking up with a warm, soft girl sharing your couch; no caveats to this one.

He recognized the soft warmth before he was even fully awake. He'd come to recognize the various dips and swells pressing against him that indicated Luna. Not that he was trying to memorize them or anything.

A golden rim glowed to life around his eyes and the world came into focus. He still didn't fully understand the how of it, but it worked, and that was enough for now; because it allowed him to gaze at the quirky blonde as she slowly came awake.

She yawned the biggest, cutest yawn. Eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings and slowly, her head turned up at him; lips curled into a sleepy smile, "Good morning Harry."

He loved it when she said that. He loved it when she said anything. His head was filled with cheery fuzz and the Wrackspurts were having a carnival on his brain.

"Huh, wabadayay!" Then it began to Ron all over his chemical parade and the world returned to normal. Dammit.

Insisting on escorting her to breakfast, the two, plus third wheel, headed to the kitchens. Fred and George weren't far behind and any hope of a little one on one vanished, but, clever bird that she was, before she went on her way, she slipped a small note into his hand.

Meet me  
Astronomy tower  
6 o'clock  
tonight

He spent the rest of the day walking on air, metaphorically, mostly. This went neither unnoticed nor unremarked upon, but Harry remained tight lipped which greatly annoyed his friends, though he was sure he saw Neville grinning more than once.

It had been a few days and despite Madam Pomphrey insisting on a week, when the time came, he apparated halfway across the castle to escape his shadow.

Feeling very pleased with himself, and not missing any body parts; he'd barely taken two steps when there was a pop, and his tail stood before him, wand in hand.

Harry was shocked, but only for a moment. "So, that's the game you wanna play."

"Harry," he tried, but Harry was already gone.

The two boys apparated all over the castle, startling dozens of people and causing more than a bit of mischief purely by accident. It impressed Harry how well his friend managed to keep up with him; impressed, and annoyed.

He had somewhere to be, and he did not need a chaperone.

He finally figured out it was his apparition Ron was tracking and used this to make his escape. Popping into the junk pile that was the former Room of Requirement, he assumed his animagus form and vanished into the nearest pile of brick-a-brak just before Ron appeared.

From his hiding place he saw Ron cast a spell again and again, growing more and more frustrated with every failure. Giving it up, the ginger began skulking around the room calling his name. Harry waited till he was well out of sight before scurrying toward the entrance.

The door was gone, removed by the twins when they'd begun raiding the place, and Harry dashed into the hallway before finding the closest window and heading out. He didn't want to risk apparating and drawing Ron's attention, so he went up the tower from the outside; a simple if not slightly time-consuming task in his animagus form.

He arrived late and found Luna calmly sitting, humming to herself. A small pack sat at her side and she was dressed like she was going hiking and was completely color blind. When did lime green ever match up with lavender? Wizards.

Luna saw him scamper up the ledge and smiled, "Hullo Harry."

Harry hopped down to the floor and changed back. He didn't bother to ask how she knew it was him, though he'd not told her he was an animagus, or what his form was. "Am I late?"

"A wizard is never late Harry," she said quite seriously, "nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

"Is that so?" He found her earnestness adorable. "Then what about witches?"

"Ladies prerogative."

The little blonde smiled when he burst out laughing, "Should've known," he chuckled between guffaws.

"Yes, you should have," she agreed.

Her casual cheek stung like a funny bee and he snatcher her up in his arms eliciting a startled squeak. She was rigid for a second then melted like spring snow, pressing herself against him, nuzzling into his chest as he revealed in the scent and touch of her. And for a moment it was morning, on the couch, just the two of them with no one to tease or taunt.

But, as it so often does, reality had to interrupt, the smarmy bastard. Luna gently pushed away, a hint of sadness in her smile he completely missed as she sat and gestured for him to join her. Without reluctance he did so, wrapping an arm around her which she readily accepted.

Silence, for a time, hung over them like a cloak, fitting, comfortable. The sun dipped lower as time ticked away, and Harry was content to let it. At no point in his life had he felt so at peace. But Luna stirred, agitated; words that needed saying demanded to be said whether she wanted to or not.

"Harry."

"Yes Luna?"

She hesitated, but the words had started and would not be stopped, "I like this Harry, I like this very much."

"So do I Luna."

"I like you, very much."

Her heart leapt and made a mad dash for her throat when he smiled at her, "I like you too," he said, "very much."

"I don't like this place, not at all."

Harry fumbled the return on that one. While it was true, he had mixed feelings on Hogwarts, especially of late, could he really say he didn't like the place at all? He was living there.

"What do you mean Luna?"

"I'm leaving."

In that moment it was only his ass on the wide, flat stones that kept him from falling off the tower. It was a close thing when she slid from his arms and stood, staring out into the distance.

"Luna, I don't understand."

"Look at it Harry, there's a whole world out there. A whole world full of things to see. I'm going to see them. There's nothing for me here."

"Not even me?" There was pain in that question, like a heart that was preparing to break.

"You're leaving too Harry."

"I am?" That was news, but her nod assured.

"You just haven't decided yet."

That could change, he thought, right now. "I'll go with you," he said, standing only to have a pair of soft hands placed against his chest, a pair of sad eyes grip him by the heart.

"You won't leave because of me. You—you can't leave because of me."

"Wha… bu, Luna I…" He tried to protest, think of… something, anything to say, but all the words that needed saying had been said save one, and he was not quite ready to be said.

Neither could Luna bear to hear any more lest it break her resolve. Desperation drove her legs, her hands that grasped him, her lips that crushed his, swallowing his mumbled words with a gentle moan.

All higher brain function came to a screeching halt as the hamster fell off the wheel in shock. No synapse still firing could have stopped her when she pulled away, shouldered her pack, and released that final, bitter word, "Goodbye."

Harry and the hamster watched as Luna Lovegood became a patch of thin air with a single barely audible pop. The air had to be thin, as it was missing so much that should have been there, an entire girl worth.

Harry stared blankly, even after the hamster ran out of tears and got back on the wheel. The sun had all but set when Ginger came running up the steps, red-faced and out of breath.

"Is she…" the aptly named girl blurted, but never finished. The blank stare said it all. "I knew she was going to. She never said it, but I knew she was going to."

Well why didn't you stop her! Harry screamed in his head, causing the poor hamster to faint in shock, saving Ginger suffering the poorly directed vitriol. Consciously Harry knew it was no one's fault, but sadness and anger were vying for control while reason and logic were locked in the closet for their own safety.

To put it simply, he was a mess, which was only made worse by the enhancement around his eyes fading due to time and a lack of focus.

"Harry, are you alright?"

No, he wanted to snap, but he was short on focus and dividing it enough to speak would have rendered it to fractions too small to be of any use. He sufficed with a slight shake of the head as he concentrated on seeing straight again.

The world came back into focus and there stood Ginger looking to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Are you alright?" The words came without needing to think, like most stupid questions.

"I can't, I can't go back there," she started to cry. "He'll find me. I can't."

"Who? Where?"

"Ravenclaw!" she wailed. "One of the sixth years he, he said he was, and I didn't…" her words stumbled into incoherency, but it didn't matter. Slow as he sometimes was, this seemed pretty clear.

"Luna was protecting you."

Ginger nodded, "They never could find us. I don't know how and, now that she's gone I, I…"

Again, words failed, and she began bawling like a frightened child. The words 'don't worry, I'll protect you' briefly fluttered through his mind, but they never caught. The nets that would have plucked such words and dumped them out his face hole the year before were torn, tattered, badly abused.

He'd become quite jaded in a surprisingly short amount of time. The events of the past hour only serving to put a level of polish on that jade that reflected his unnamed monster who grasped it covetously. He couldn't get the words out his mouth; he could barely keep them in his head.

Neither could he entirely ignore the problem, taking the bawling girl by the shoulders and leading her from the tower; it was only by doing this that he was able to pretend he didn't feel his aching heart which looked more and more like a bad jigsaw puzzle the longer he ignored it.


	12. Chapter 11

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 11 – Breaking out

…

Dark. Night. Two moons hung over Hogwarts like attentive lovers, or the biggest pair of tits in the galaxy; no bra. As in nights before, the Gryffindor common room was empty, but for two. Harry and Ron sat across from each other, engaged in a battle of wills.

"Blink."

"Gah!"

It wasn't much of a battle, but the chuckling Potter was still keeping track.

"Harry, can we just go to bed?" Ron whined, black bags under his eyes putting him at the disadvantage in their battle.

"Go to bed if you want. I'm not stopping you."

"You know I can't," he protested.

"I know nothing of the sort." That was a lie of course. Not only had he gotten it from the twins and confirmed through weak denial from Ron; he'd also gotten it straight from the horse's mouth, and no, that wasn't a joke about Ron's eating decorum.

"Tell ya what, one more round. You last a full minute; we'll call it a night."

"Alright… ready set go!"

Focusing all his meager will, Ron forced his eyes open as far as they'd go. Matching gazes with Harry was always hard, even when he was fully awake. Something about the color, the vibrancy of the green that was just off putting, like staring down a killing curse.

It was even worse now that he'd lost his glasses and walked around with those gold markings around his eyes. Addled by lack of sleep he could swear those killing curse green eyes were glowing.

No, that was silly, just his imagination. Gosh he was tired, so tired he was imagining his friend's eyes were glowing. He needed sleep. Was the minute over? Had to be. His eyelids felt like anvils; heavy, so heavy. Nighty night.

With a heavy whoomph, Ron fell back in his seat and began snoring loudly.

Harry blinked several times to get the spell out of his eyes before giving his head a quick shake. "Well, that went better than I had any reason to hope."

He'd been practicing on small animals for several days in order to master a sleep spell he could cast wandlessly with his eyes. The wand up his sleeve was his back-up plan though he was glad he'd not needed to use it.

He was annoyed with Ron but not to the point he was eager to raise his wand to him. Dumbledore however, that was a whole other story, and not a fight he believed he could win.

It was three days prior, when Ron had brought Harry to the headmaster's office. He offered no explanation, no detail, he simply said, "Dumbledore wants to see you," and motioned for him to follow.

The lifeless gargoyle stood aside from the staircase and Harry ascended without pause; realizing only when he reached the top that Ron had not followed.

The headmaster welcomed him from behind his desk, offering him a cup of tea which looked like it could barely be qualified as such, and even then, only if the inspector was blind and possessing no taste to speak of. He politely declined.

Several minutes were wasted on pointless small talk, or polite interrogation; inquiring into his health, his activities, his friends. It was the last one that got the real conversation rolling. Ron had been talking, obviously. Wouldn't be much of a spy if he couldn't report.

Dumbledore waffled on for a time about responsibility and their difficult situation. Harry'd almost tuned out when the dragon came up. Apparently, it had been coming and going almost daily, circling the castle several times as it passed on its way to the forest and upon each return where it could be seen carrying some sort of animal.

It never came too near the castle; never attacked. The current theory was, it was looking for something, specifically, him.

The evidence was flimsy, but Harry didn't disagree. The dragon was holding a grudge, but it didn't want to get taken by surprise, so it was looking for him. Made perfect sense.

The 'solution' to the problem, did not. "For your own safety, I must insist you stay inside the castle and away from anywhere the dragon may see you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was third year all over again, but he was no longer a wet behind the ears barely teenager. He'd fought dragons, on his own, and survived. With some help and a little preparation, they could easily beat this one dragon, and he said as much.

But Dumbledore wasn't hearing it. You're very brave Harry. A credit to your parent's memory Harry. Don't do anything foolish Harry. Trust me Harry.

His fury burned like ice, but it was Dumbledore's parting comment that set him on his current path, "Please stop running away from Mr. Weasley. He only wants what's best for you. As do we all."

How one man could sling such a load of horseshit with a straight face and no cloths pin boggled Harry's mind, then and still.

Quietly, Harry slid from his chair and stretched. Phase one of his plan was complete. Now it was on to phase two. Or it would have been if Lavender hadn't chosen that very moment to come sleepily stumbling down the stairs.

"Harry," she yawned. "You're still up."

"You too," he replied as casual as he could.

She shook her head, rubbing bleary eyes, "I hada go to the bathroom, and I saw the lights were still on."

It was just past two, of all the rotten luck. He needed to get going, without tipping anyone off.

"Why don't you head back to bed Lavender."

A wicked idea flitted into her head, curling her lips in an equally wicked smile. "Why don't you come with me Harry?"

Harry faltered at such a proposition. It must have showed because the wicked little temptress took the opportunity to saunter across the room and wrap her arms around him.

Crap!

"Mm, Harry. Come to bed with me," sensuous delight dripped from every word like hot caramel; hot, sticky, sweet.

"Lavender?"

"Mm, yes Harry."

"Lavender, aren't you tired Lavender?"

"I'm not that tired," she crooned, tilting her head so she could gaze into his eyes. His eyes, so bright, so vibrant.

"Aren't you tired Lavender. You should sleep."

Her body sagged against him, the spell taking hold, then she went rigid, eyes fluttering as some part of her realized what was happening. It wasn't enough, her will, her focus. She relaxed, went limp; Harry lay her on the nearest couch and threw a blanket over her.

"Sorry Lav," he whispered over the sleeping girl. "It was a very tempting offer."

Stealing out of Gryffindor tower as silent as a rouge's shadow, he made his way to the small room he used to train. His bag was there, squirreled away in a desk that was a chest of drawers he hadn't bothered to change back.

With his bag in hand he made his way to the kitchen. He wasn't fool enough to go on the road without some sort of travel ration. He planned to swipe one of the lure stones as well but if he could go several days without needing it, he would make much better his escape.

He didn't take much. A bit of cheese, some meat, a small bag of flower. He was just wrapping a half dozen eggs in a bit of cloth when he heard voices.

"Shit!" He knew the kitchen girls got up early, but it was barely three.

Surprised, dismayed, he was not unprepared. A brief tap of the wand to the top of his head; Harry vanished, melting from view like a mirage. The girls passed by without over noticing and Harry silently crept out of the kitchen then ran for the broom locker.

It wasn't the actual broom locker, just the room that the broom restoration committee was using to store their work. The room was locked, which was two seconds work. He was in, out, and headed for the library in less time than it took to say Quidditch.

The library was his final stop, not the library proper but the lost shelves, the hidden library where Fred and George did most of their enchanting; and more importantly, storing.

He went to work, grabbing a lure stone, a pair of water bottles and purifying apparatus; a trio of bluebell torches went into his bag, followed by a length of 'allegedly' unbreakable rope.

A few more odds and ends, he turned to leave when he noticed something sitting alone on a table in the corner. It was the serpent he'd pulled out of the swamp on his first scouting mission. It was still wood, glaring impotent fury from unseeing eyes.

He picked it up, half expecting it to change back in his hands. When it didn't, he shrugged and threw it in his bag before retrieving his special book from his pocket and putting it in as well.

Bag full, he headed for the gates. The time was half past four and his steps were brimming with haste. So much haste, he almost didn't notice the figure waiting just inside the castle doors till he nearly ran into her.

"Professor Trelawney!"

His second least competent professor smiled at him. Not the usual airy, half vacant smile she often wore but something earthy, genuine. "You know I never tire of hearing that," she said.

Harry blinked, "Hearing what?"

"Professor Trelawney," she replied. "I was always rather useless as a witch. I tried so hard but, just couldn't get my head around it."

"Ya don't say." He'd prepared for delays, but not for this. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this. Dumbledore in a tutu was more likely. He needed to go before someone that could actually stop him showed up.

She appeared to sense this, or was it something else when she said, "You're in a hurry. I understand. You've a long way to go if you wish to make good your escape."

His blood froze in his veins. She knew. Didn't matter how; she knew. She knew and she was standing between him and the door.

"Have you come to stop me?" His tone crept to a dangerous edge, his wand felt hot as it slipped into his hand, ready, aching to be used.

Rather than flinch or cower, she looked confused, like the question had reminded her she'd forgotten something. "I— I don't think so. No, I'm almost certain that's not why I'm here."

Unconvinced, and still ready to turn her to stone at a moment's notice, "Then why are you here."

"What did I say to you?"

"Huh?" What!

"When I woke up in the hospital wing, what did I say to you?"

"You, you asked me if it was time for class," he mumbled, completely thrown by the sudden tangent.

"No, no before that. I said something to you, but it wasn't really me speaking. I did, didn't I?"

Yes, she had, though he was hesitant to say, "Yes."

"Do you remember what I said?"

Every word, "Yes."

"Ah, good."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Harry asked, "Did you want me to tell you?'

"Oh goodness no. Prophecy is spoken for the sake of the one listening, not the speaker."

"Probably make more sense to you than me."

"Perhaps," she acknowledged. "Symbols, signs, interpretation. These are all things my grandmother taught me. She had the gift. Her eye was open, a little, not like mine."

"Beg your pardon?"

The woman's smile took on a hint of indulgence. "There's no need for illusions between us Mr. Potter. You never really believed in my power, nor should you have. When we first met my inner eye was about as open as Minerva McGonagall's.

Harry gaped; how could he not? It was one thing to disbelieve Trelawney in private or call Umbridge or Snape worthless teachers. It was something else entirely to hear them admit you were right.

"So, it was all an act. Just, lucky guessing."

"Put someone in the right state of mind and give them a vague enough prediction and they'll fill in the rest on their own. I'd also become quite good at reading my audience, that helps."

"Then, why?"

"I needed a job," she said simply. "The position had come open. I was desperate, in more ways than one."

"How's that?"

"I needed money, a place to live, that much is true. But more than anything I wanted what my grandmother had, respect. The respect and acknowledgment that comes from someone who truly has the gift. I was desperate, truly desperate for that."

"But you said you didn't have the gift."

"I didn't. I could only fake it. But I could also dream. Dreams and desperation drive us to strange places. Bring us to do strange things. I've always known I was a fraud, but I wanted to be real, and I never stopped trying. That night I was trying."

"That night?" was she saying, "when we were brought here?"

"When we fell through galaxies," she said, a faraway look in her eye. "There it was. The entire multiverse spread out before me. It was glorious, terrifying. It was more than my mind, or any human mind was ever made to comprehend. My inner eye was blasted fully open, I ceased to be me, and became simply it."

"It?"

"The universe."

He was stunned. Assuming he did believe her and given all she'd told him he was oddly inclined to, what did you say to that.

Nothing, you say nothing, because she isn't done talking, "I don't know how long it was. Moments, eons, all the same. I didn't really come back. Something brought me back. It spoke to you, then I was me again, forced to use my human brain for thinking once more. It was very confusing."

Sounded like it. He was confused, "So your inner eye is open now?" was one thing he thought he understood.

"A little," she nodded. "Perhaps a quarter. Grandmother used to say anyone with their eye open more than half wasn't really a person anymore. The Oracle of Delphi for example. Nothing but a voice box for the greater powers to speak through."

"Spose I don't have to worry about that. I faked every piece of homework you ever gave me."

This amused her; smiling fondly, "You've no idea how much I enjoyed it though. Really, the things you and Mr. Weasley would come up with."

For some reason Harry found himself smiling back, "If you can't see it you have to make it up."

"But you can see, a little."

"Huh!"

She laughed at his dumbstruck expression, though he failed to see the humor. "Yours is a lazy sort of eye. It's no good for cards or crystals or tea. Your eye only opens when you are in grave peril, and only just enough to keep you one step ahead of death. Provided your feet are fast enough."

He mulled this information, turning it over and over in his brain, (dizzy), slowly coming to understand. He had a lazy eye, that's why he couldn't see the humor.

"But I think I've kept you long enough," she said suddenly, reminding Harry what he was supposed to be doing.

"Uh, yeah, I.." he fumbled for something to say.

"Now, now, on your way. Can't keep him waiting."

Harry allowed himself to be shooed, right up until 'him waiting'. "Him?"

A brief glance upward was all he needed. "Oh." That he'd planned for. "Thank you, Professor Trelawney."

"Until we meet again."

"Uh, yeah. Again." Except there wouldn't be any again. He had no intention of coming back.

"All roads meet at the end!" The voice resonating, filling the hall was not that of Sybil Trelawney, though it came from her lips.

And with that said, she turned and swished down the hall.

Ignoring the somewhat ominous declaration, he heaved the door open enough to slip through before shoving it closed. Outside it was dark but not so dark he couldn't see. Under the light of two moons he mounted his broom and zoomed into the air; leaving Hogwarts to grow smaller and smaller as he rose up and away.

A sense forlorn overwhelmed him when he glanced back at the castle receding into the distance. For a moment he was eleven years old again, bright-eyed, hopeful, so optimistic. Where had that boy gone, he wondered?

Slain by a dark lord posing as a teacher? Devoured by an ancient serpent or consumed by a bitter spirit. Perhaps it was his godfather that did it; reckless and rash, hunted and haunted by unspeakable horrors. Surely, the tournament, a trio of terrible tasks, the whole magical world watching, judging.

But no, it was none of those things. He'd survived them all; even the wretchedness that was Dolores Jane Umbridge would have passed.

That optimistic little boy hadn't gone anywhere. He was still there, just not so little, not so naïve. He was sad to leave Hogwarts, sad for what it once had meant to him. But that was his past now. Where once he had stared up at Hogwarts and its glowing towers with such wonder; now he looked down, one last time at the old shadowed castle.

It was almost out of sight when the sun broke the horizon; rampant rays racing across the sky, crowding the air with their glowing delight.

Harry slowed, hovered a moment, drank it in. One particularly erratic ray bounced off something and went shooting straight into Harry's eye. Harry flinched, looked up to where the beam had been diverted from.

"Ah. Wondered when you'd show up."

The dragon floated a hundred meters overhead. Its massive wings beat with surprising silence as it did like Harry and bathed in the morning rays.

"Enjoy your last sunrise," it boomed with no sense of haste. They were both there, no reason to rush. So, they hovered, they basked, and when the sun was half revealed, "Now, run."

Both flyers tilted downward simultaneously, picking up speed. Harry zipped like an arrow with a flaming missile hot on his heels. The broom he was on couldn't hold a candle to his Firebolt, the broom he'd used the last time he tried to outfly a dragon. The beast was on top of him in seconds.

He made a hard right and the dragon twisted acrobatically to follow. The move was amazing, as was the next one. He would have appreciated them more if they didn't put a large mouth full of teeth and the worst jalapeno breath you've ever seen right on his bristles.

"Run faster little squirrel. I'm gaining on you," the dragon taunted.

The dragon was faster than he thought and so agile as to defy belief. If it hadn't been toying with him, he'd probably be on fire already, but that too was toying with him.

A blast of fire, more a flaming ball of phlegm, shot past him just missing. The second came from the left, brushing his arm and lighting his sweater which he quickly patted out while the dragon chuckled.

"You were a fool to come up here," the dragon roared. "This is my domain. I rule the sky."

"Can't argue with that," he didn't have the firepower.

He'd never intended to fight the dragon in the air; I mean come on. But if he went for the ground like he was, he'd be hot ash before he hit the treetops.

"Time to change it up." Shooting straight up he dodged another fireball and climbed. The dragon spun, twisted and followed, pumping its wings, hauling its massive bulk after the swiftly ascending wizard.

He didn't gain but he lost no distance either; that was fine, Harry wasn't trying to outrun him. He peaked at the cloud level, drawing his wand to throw a few charms at his bag before the dragon caught up.

"Already giving up. How disappointing."

Harry ignored the dragon, tossing one more featherlight charm on his bag before pitching it into the clouds. "Not hardly," he said, gripping the end of the broom so he was essentially standing in the air. "I just thought it was time I stopped holding back."

The dragon sneered at his bravado, curling its lips, revealing rows of dagger teeth. It was a foolish man who taunted a dragon; an equally foolish man who tried to fight one on their own.

Harry smiled at the snarling beast, whispered to his broom, "Go home," then let go.

The broom flew like a bolt, whizzing past the dragon who snorted contemptuously at the apparently failed assault. "Is that your best human?" it bellowed, folding its wings and diving after him.

Harry reveled in freefall, nothing like the wind racing past fast enough to break your neck to make you feel truly alive. His fun was interrupted by the dragon, bearing down on him like an angry, flying Hogwarts express.

"I grow tired of this game wizard."

"Then you're not gonna like this, one bit."

The dragon had but a moment to guess at the meaning of those words before his quarry vanished, and in its place a tiny kite caught wind and shot past him.

The dragon fought gravity to pursue; twisting in the air to turn down into up. Harry hopped off his wind spout and began a horizontal glide, watching the dragon battle the inevitable forces to chase him. He did not look happy. It was hard to say how a dragon would look if it was happy, but angry, that was easy. Teeth; teeth and snarling and fire.

Harry squeezed, dropping a few feet to avoid a stream of flame before opening up, tilting his glide slowly downward as the dragon closed in.

"This ends wizard!" he roared, disgorging a massive burst of flame that swallowed up all in its path.

"Now that was impressive."

The dragon looked up, stunned to find Harry standing on its back, just behind the neck. Golden lines glowed along Harry's arms and he slammed an enhanced fist against the dragon's head as he dove off.

The punch rang his bell, but the dragon remained aloft as Harry dropped. Insulted more than injured it followed, breathing a long stream of flame that missed when the wizard transformed again and shot up faster than the dragon could turn its head.

He didn't stay up, dropping like an anvil as the dragon turned to find him and took another hit that made his vision blur momentarily.

"That the best you got?" Harry taunted, falling away from the fiery behemoth.

Pride stinging, it responded the only way it knew how. Streams of flame flew in every direction as the dragon tossed its head about in rage. Tantrum thrown it sought its foe, gliding well out of range, and gave chase.

Harry saw him come and angled down, his kite like body knifing through the air as the dragon closed in, roaring rage and fire and death.

He seems upset; Harry chortled inwardly which came out as a rolling chitter, lost on the wind. He'd been a little disappointed when he'd fist unlocked his form, hoping for some sort of bird or a deer like his father. It had flying in the name but a flying squirrel; it just didn't capture the imagination.

He'd gotten over it pretty quick. It couldn't fly but it could glide like nobody's business and it was a very small target. The dragon blazed and Harry rolled, falling through the air and recovering just off the dragon's right wing.

The wing came down and his grasping claws latched on. The dragon shook with fury trying to dislodge him, but Harry would not be moved. His constant chittering drove the dragon mad with rage, twisting and turning, jaws snapping at the wizard squirrel.

Hyper focused on Harry, it failed to notice how low they'd flown till its tail caught on a tree. The tree broke under the dragon's weight, but the hard pull brought the dragon further down where it could happen again and again before the dragon even had time to wonder what was happening.

Harry abandoned ship as the dragon was dragged into the trees, its flailing limbs smashing wood as it plummeted under its own weight; wings unable to reach out without hitting something.

High up in a tree, the squirrel waited for the resounding crash. The tree shook; real animals fled in fear, but Harry scurried to see what he'd accomplished.

The dragon lay amidst a mess of wreckage. Two trees had been completely smashed and several others leaned against their kin. Harry found a large sturdy branch on one nearby before reverting to human.

"Had enough!"

The dragon responded with a blast of fire that came nowhere near him.

"Curse you!" the dragon cried, struggling to its feet; staggering drunkenly, its head hanging. "Curse You! I'll get you wizard!"

"I'm ready whenever you are." To prove it he pulled a large chunk off his tree and hurled it at the dragon.

The dragon flinched under the assault, staggering back defensively. "You may have won today, but there will be others. I know where you nest wizard."

It was a weak threat; they both knew it. But Harry decided he'd do Hogwarts one last favor, for old time's sake.

"We all leave the nest someday," he shouted. "Today is mine. You want me, you'll have to come find me first, lizard!" Another chunk of wood added injury to insult and Harry made a quick squirrel jump before the blast of flame incinerated his branch.

"Curse you wizard! Curse you!" the dragon roared impotently; his quarry, his foe, already gone.


	13. Chapter 12

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 12 – My fairy lady

…

Dawn came like a golden hand reaching out to grasp the world. Happy rays crept like ivy across the gloomy gray walls of Hogwarts castle. The great doors opened, and Rubeus Hagrid strode forth, axe over shoulder.

He paused a time in the early morning glow to look up at the sky. Black beetle eyes scanned the horizon; finding nothing of what he had hoped. His head hung low briefly then, with a sniffle appropriate to a man of his magnitude, he walked on. Wood wasn't going to chop itself.

From a high window, icy blue eyes watched the big man go to his work. They were tired eyes, black bags hung heavy, threatening the ice to crack. The night had been long, and she'd observed every minute of it. She needn't have, but her temper made sleep difficult. If the blossoms on the rumor weed were even half true, she wasn't the only insomniac.

"I suppose it's about time to call it a night."

Forcing her exhausted body to action, she crossed the room, standing face to face with a man; more a boy really, tied to a pair of large crossbeams nailed into an X.

His body was clammy with cold sweat and crisscrossed with a hundred tiny red lines. Pale blonde hair hung, lank and stringy, a pitiful sight. His mother would have been ashamed. His father would have disowned him or threatened to at least. He was more bluster than bite that Lucius Malfoy.

"I do hope you've learned your lesson after all this," she said, spelling her captive into a groggy consciousness.

Before he could mutter an intelligible word, his bindings vanished, and he dropped to the hard, stone floor.

"Now get out."

Cold clearing his head, he didn't need to be told twice. Struggling to his feet he shambled to the door; that is into the door. Three times finally opened the portal and he vanished into the dim lit hall.

"Worthless," she grumbled, shambling a bit herself as she went to close the door.

She'd not gotten halfway when someone else slid in through the gap and closed it for her. "Morning."

"Is it?" she said with a gimlet eye, "I hadn't noticed."

"Hard night?" Daphne said with a wry smile.

"Some pupils require sterner tutelage than others," she said in a reasonable impression of McGonagall, if McGonagall were falling asleep on her feet.

"You know seeing you like this just makes me want to drag you off to bed."

"Ah ha! I knew you just wanted my body."

Daphne shook her head, "But we've got things to do today."

"Am I one of them?"

It would have been funny, if she didn't look like she was about to fall over. Taking a bottle from her pocket she forced it down the older girl's throat. Steam shot out of her ears and she stopped swaying like a flagpole in a hurricane.

"Thank you."

"Yes, well," Daphne mumbled, "you can't keep doing this you know. It's not healthy for one and we don't have much Pepper-up left."

Anna sighed, deep and heavy, "I know, I know, I just…" She just what? Spent all night tearing a piece off Draco Malfoy for being a useless annoying little shit.

"You know I saw a certain someone running down the hall just now. Naked. What'd he do to deserve that?"

"You mean besides being a worthless little ponce?"

"Yes, besides that." He'd always been a worthless little ponce after all; why change now.

"You've heard him crowing, who hasn't. it's been three weeks and he's still going on like he was solely responsible for it."

It, the biggest event to rock Hogwarts since, well, since Harry Potter single handedly bested two dragons. The sudden and unexplained disappearance of a person who could do that was likely to cause a stir; three times, clockwise.

"That was really enough for you to lose sleep over?" said Daphne in a scolding tone.

"I'm sick of it!" she shouted. "All anyone can talk about is Harry. He's gone. What's left to talk about? I swear, if he were here right now I… I'd!"

"Tie him to a bed and never let him go?"

"YES!"

Daphne resisted a chuckle as Anna buried her face in her hands. "Pent up much?"

"He was perfect!" she exclaimed. "Handsome, charming, pliable. Oh, so powerful. With a little work he could have been exactly the leader we need to get us through this debacle."

Daphne felt the assessment slightly exaggerated. "You really don't have much faith in Dumbledore."

"I have no faith in Dumbledore!" she countered fiercely. "I didn't like him before, and he's done nothing but bungle the situation since we arrived."

"A little harsh, don't you think?"

"Is it?" The gleam in her eye begged to differ. "You think Kim would say that, or Stanley?"

Daphne scowled, hard. "That's not fair Anna. They were my housemates too."

"And who will it be next time. Astoria perhaps."

"ENOUGH!" The scream shook the room like an angry giant. No magic was used to accomplish this.

"Daphne, I… I'm sorry, I…" she tried to say but Daphne wasn't quite ready to hear it.

"Don't, you, ever, say something like that again." For a second the roles reversed, and cool, controlled Anna DeWinter babbled her apologies.

"I'm sorry, I, I'm just tired."

"That's why you need to sleep."

"I will! I will. Tonight, I will, I promise."

Relaxing a little with a deep calming breath, "Good."

"So, what's first on the docket?" she said, eager to move on from her embarrassing lapse in sanity.

"It's late enough. Ginger should be up by now," she said, stiffly walking to the door.

She opened it a crack, but Anna had yet to move. "What… what do you suppose he'd doing right now?"

The edge of her mouth twitched, the faintest hint of a smile. "If his history is anything to go by, he's probably getting into trouble."

"Yes," she said, her own smile plain and full of rue, "he was good at that, wasn't he?"

Harry felt rather offended at this assumption. He didn't go looking for trouble, it just happened to find him a lot. It's not like he was hoping to get into danger. He'd gotten that talk too when he was younger. Never get into a car with a stranger, and no matter how many times they met, he'd never known a one stranger, than danger.

Harry was not in fact, getting into trouble. Nor was he in danger. He was in a small hollow in an old oak tree, and he was a squirrel.

Spring had properly sprung, and the tree was budding. Flowers stretched across every branch, fighting for space to blossom and bloom. Their short existence made the competition fierce, the losers left floating to the ground had ample time to ponder the meaning of life before gravity returned them to the earth.

The newest turn of the cycle brought great excitement as everyone scurried about in a new season tizzy, looking for something, or someone. It was a wonder how many things went astray over the winter, and how they seemed to magically pop up in other people's nests, like my rake, eh Bob?

Old birds had it lucky being paired off already; this excitement was exclusively for the young, as Harry had learned. In the past three days alone he'd been shamelessly propositioned five times by female squirrely who thought he looked 'exotic' and had such a cute accent.

He hadn't said yes; apart from not actually being a squirrel he just wasn't ready for that sort of commitment; no matter how big the eyes or bushy the tail.

For Harry, the ruckus of morning had started before the sun was even a glow in the distance. Birds had so little patience at the best of times and with the mating thrill riling the zeitgeist, it was not the best of times.

Years of living with Ron, he who saws logs with a megaphone, was all that allowed him to ignore them till the sun came up and started knocking at his tree. It was a marvel in a way. He'd never slept better in his life than when he was a squirrel in a hollow.

Something about it just seemed right; and getting a good night's sleep made it easier to get up in the morning. Who knew? He yawned, he stretched; he scurried out of his hollow and repeated the process at full size.

He'd never been terribly fond of mornings before; and I mean, who is? But now, there was something about being awake, in the middle of the wilderness, all alone; it thrilled him, in a totally different way than those horny girl squirrels… which he had not touched, promise.

It was the thrill of the unknown, living each day like anything could happen and probably would. Even if it didn't you still weren't disappointed. That didn't stop him from having a routine. He wasn't a savage after all.

Grabbing the nearest branch, he went to work, up and down, and up and down. Breakfast following his morning workout wasn't much. Not just because he didn't have much, but he wasn't that hungry. Something about sleeping in his animagus form, handy.

Retrieving his bag from another hollow he then transfigured both shut; orienting himself by the rising sun he set out, following the same general path he'd been following the last three weeks.

It wasn't really a path, so he wasn't actually following it being as there was nothing to follow since that would imply something had preceded him; impossible since it wasn't even there. He had a vague idea which way Hogwarts lie in, and he was going in the opposite, relatively speaking.

He hadn't gotten above the tree level since his fight with the dragon, so he was guessing a lot. Must've been at least half right because he'd not seen Hogwarts in three weeks, an anniversary he had mixed feelings about.

He'd made up his mind to leave and for doing that he had no regrets. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder about his friends. Were they alright? Did they miss him?

He thought about Luna too as he tromped through the woods. Had she really known he would leave or was it a guess. He knew the sound of prophecy, having heard it twice from the lips of Sybil Trelawney. If Luna had 'seen' it, she'd done so before their last meeting, but Harry didn't think so.

No, most likely the quirky little blonde had just seen the way the wind was blowing and made her own prediction from there. She was a smart girl that Luna; not smart like Hermione who devoured the written word like spaghetti, but observant and able to look at things from an angle others would have never considered.

Her atypical thinking was probably why Hermione didn't like her; Hermione being a very typical thinker.

An image of the two arguing over the color of the sky drifted through his mind. Hermione was frantically arguing the case of blue while Luna sat there and threw what if after what if into her carefully worded explanation till Hermione couldn't handle it anymore. Screaming in irritation she threw herself at Luna, pushing her against the wall, tearing off her clothes while the other girl meekly submitted and Hermione's burning lips crashed down with furious passion.

And it was at about this point that Harry tripped over an exposed root, face planted into the mud and came to the conclusion he should maybe think about something else.

Around midday, well after he'd cleaned the mud off his face and forgotten about the thing that put it there, he came to a flooded river, intersecting his chosen path. The spring thaw had turned the small drip into a raging water snake, crashing along on its way to wherever it is rivers go.

It was no kind of obstacle really. He could have easily apparated the distance, a mere twenty feet; or turned into a squirrel, climbed a tree and glided across. For a wizard, even a half trained one like Harry, it was no obstacle at all.

That was why he opted for the least likely method. Taking a running start, he leapt the distance; enhanced limbs hurling him flawlessly over the rushing water to the other side, where he sank a full foot into the saturated earth.

"Did not think that one through," and it wouldn't be the last time that day either.

An outside observer would have concluded he was some kind of idiot, bungling around the forest like a not too graceful troll. The truth was something else entirely, as it so often is. He was just bored.

Exploring a new place was all well and good, but nothing he came across posed any sort of challenge. The hardest thing he'd done since grounding the dragon had been finding a place to sleep. A little transfiguration solved that, and he'd not had to worry about it since.

It's always foolish to wish for 'something' to happen. Not only is 'something' incredibly vague, but once you've got it the first thing most people do is whine about it happening to them, bunch of ingrates.

It was never 'something' people actually wanted, just less 'nothing' which some might assume is 'something' but is in fact completely different.

None the less, as he went along his merry way actually wanting less nothing, Harry silently wished for something and like so many before him, something is precisely what he got.

The sun was setting, and Harry was beginning to scout for a tree to sleep in when he came upon a body. At first, he mistook it for a doll, so frail and tiny, but on closer inspection he found it had in fact been a living thing, though it was certainly dead now.

It looked like a fair skinned human; very fair skinned, almost white and clearly female. She was twelve inches tall with blueberry blue hair and tattered butterfly wings of blue and black.

Harry knew what fairies were. They'd often been used as decoration during the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts. This fairy was much larger than any of those, about the size of a Barbie doll though less absurdly proportioned, but Harry was certain that's what she was.

He found another not a few feet away, this one with bright orange hair. And two more after that, clinging in death, hysterical fear writ plain across their tiny faces. More followed, a full dozen in total and every single one dead; wings torn, bodies battered and broken.

What could do such a thing, he wondered. And more relevant, why would they do it? He was no expert on fairies but there appeared no rhyme or reason for the killings which is what they clearly were. He could see that even before finding the purple hair that had been torn in half.

A commotion deeper into the grove drew his attention; following the fairy corpses littering the ground like dollies on parade, he found the source of the racket near a small brook, fighting for her life.

A fairy, still alive, battled a murder of the largest, blackest crows Harry had ever seen. The tiny woman fought with angry sparks of light, the tiny red fireworks a perfect match to her cherry red hair.

The crows dodged in and out, cawing and pecking, striking viciously at the tiny female with their long black beaks. The deadly face attachments glinted in the failing light looking something like spearheads as they jabbed and slashed.

One made it past the red sparks, scoring a hit which drove the glowing girl to the ground. The others saw the opening and closed.

Now, as we understand, Harry Potter does not go looking for trouble. However, it must also be understood, in the blood of ever Gryffindor man there is something. A something that only comes alive when there is a damsel in distress. It's an old sort of thing, for some it is very much like an instinct.

It must also be understood that Harry, through no fault of his own, had acquired an overabundance of this something to the point of absurd.

Thus, it was with a mighty roar, grabbing a bit of branch that lay on the ground, he charged the black mass with heroic intent.

The crows responded to their aggressor in true bully fashion, swarming him with maximum force. Insufficient, as his improvised club sent bird after bird flying without the use of their wings. A few scored minor hits in non-vital areas but Harry never slowed till he realized he'd run out of things to hit.

Pausing to catch his breath he went to the fallen fairy, fearing the worst. To his relief, she was still alive; glow dimmed, but cognizant enough to look up at him as he leaned over her.

Her countenance became fearful and she pointed frantically. Harry looked behind him and nearly gagged. The crows were melting; their bodies like black wax under a fire became malleable and they violently smashed against one another, splattering the earth with tar like droplets.

Harry drew his wand in his free hand and interposed himself between the fairy and the undulating black mass. Gradually they stopped the undulating and solidified into something vaguely man shaped. Their source was still evident in the feathery texture that ran across their body and the bird like heads, but the proportions, the arms, legs and torso, these were like men. Bigger men than Harry, all three of them.

The crow things turned their heads this way and that in the fashion birds do. They seemed to be assessing him, what kind of threat he posed, how easy would it be to get past him.

Harry didn't wait for them to make up their mind. Forgoing his stunner, the civilized option, he instead went with his well-practiced cutter. The front most crow man was trisected in the time it took to blink.

The sections began to slide apart till the arms grasped the disparate parts and forced them back into place. The long cuts bubbled and melted before vanishing like they'd never been there.

The crows cawed angrily with murderous glares. Harry, staring back, had but a single thought, "Shit!"

The black forms charged, and Harry responded with a blasting hex. The one it struck lost its upper half in a gory black splatter. The other two, unaffected, closed to melee and Harry swung his club with savage efficiency, throwing another blaster with similar results, temporary.

The third caught up quickly, semi-liquid it tried to grapple Harry. A strong banisher threw it back and Harry swung his club, lodging it in the viscous head.

He tried to remove it, but it was stuck like a tiger in a tarpit and Harry quickly surrendered the weapon in order to dodge another crow man.

He threw banishers to make some room and when the tar black trio returned, he surprised them with a glowing shield. They bounced off and stood back from the glowing wall uncertain; dare he hope, afraid.

He couldn't hold the shield forever, it was surprisingly exhausting, and he couldn't hope this timidity would be enough for them to flee. He was sorely lacking in information, but he was not without options nor lacking the ability to make leaps of logic.

They were afraid of light, so how would they react to a construct made of light? Digging for a positive memory, he found a warm, soft body and pale blond hair. A somewhat naughty smile lighting his face, the words exploded from his lips and a mighty shimmering buck exploded from his wand.

The shining Patronus he'd affectionately dubbed 'Prongs' wasted no time; leveling his massive rack, the glowing beast leapt to the attack. The shadowy creatures screamed, a horrid banshee like shriek, and tried to flee.

Prongs was faster, catching up the first in its antlers and rending it to bits with one good toss of his head. The second tried to grow wings but was run down before they were even half formed and the third, well he just ran. He ran and ran, and Prongs ran him right into the ground, splattering him with vicious stomping hooves.

Work complete and his foes showing no sign of coming back together; indeed, the fragments left all seemed to be evaporating; Prongs threw back his head to declare his victory then calmly faded away.

"Huh," Harry was stunned. He'd hoped summoning his Patronus would help but he'd never expected this. "Just what were those things?"

He had no time to think about it. A tinkling sound like tiny bells pulled his attention back to the fairy who shone brightly in the newly fallen night.

The little female, still looking a bit worse for wear, beckoned to him, and when he was close enough, she attacked, latching onto his face while jabbering something in a tiny bell voice. Any attempt to remove her was aborted before it began, and communication proved equally fruitless as she was too busy blubbering all over his face to hear him and he couldn't make heads or tails of the sounds coming out of her mouth.

Little did Harry realize his predicament was not so uncommon. Men since time immemorial had been afflicted in the same fashion with members of the opposite sex. And by strange coincidence, the solution he chose was not so different.

"Guess I won't be sleeping alone tonight."

Calmly he sought an appropriate accommodation for the evening, noting the wisdom of men before who'd found it necessary to deal with a hysterically incoherent female. Take her to bed, and deal with it in the morning. Wisdom a man could live by.


	14. Chapter 13

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 13 – Every Rose has its fangs

…

"Where is she?"

Neville stomped the aisles between towering shelves crammed tight by the accumulated knowledge of a dozen ages. Stupid shelves, they were as impenetrable walls for his purpose. Blocking, shielding, hiding her from him; he was sure of it.

"Where is she?"

He'd only been gone ten minutes. She was finally feeling well; had she gone back to the tower?

He rounded another corner and stopped. Something caught his attention. It was faint, the thing, at the edge of his senses; what was it? Sight, sound, smell?

He froze in place, held his breath. Where was it now? Would it come again?

Yes! It was sound. Muffled and faint but still distinct. It was the sound of sorrow, of bottled pain leaking out. Sobbing, crying; a tear by any other name would still be wet.

He felt foolish, Neville did, for not looking their first. He walked up to the desk where Hermione was typically entrenched. Peering over, he found the girl in question huddled beneath, quietly sobbing into her knees.

He sighed, "Again Hermione," he said softly.

Not softly enough; the sobbing ceased with a big sniffle, "Go away Neville," said a weepy voice.

"No Hermione, I'm not going away."

"Yes you will!" she snapped. "Harry did. Ron did. You will too," she wailed and resumed crying in force.

And there was the crux of it. Harry was gone, nearly a month now. Ron wasn't gone, not really; he was just taking Harry's absence very differently, withdrawing. Susan had him in hand; not like 'that', at least he didn't think so. He felt a failure for letting Harry get away, but if how they found Lavender was any indication, there wasn't much he could have done.

That hadn't stopped the twins from making snide comments till Susan had straightened them out. Neville envied her ferocity, but that wasn't going to help him here.

Hermione had been on a rocky broom ride since Harry disappeared. She'd been panicked at first, fearing the worst; then she'd acted like there was nothing to worry about and he'd come back if they just carried on and waited. When he didn't, despite all the work she'd been doing that she just knew he'd be thrilled to see, she'd gotten mad; very mad.

Now, just under four weeks later, she was crying. There was no rhyme or reason to when or why. She'd be fine one second and the next she'd be bawling inconsolably. And he was somehow expected to fix it.

He'd volunteered to keep an eye on her at first because he'd felt someone should and those that usually would have were too busy or untrustworthy. He'd done it gladly, even proudly, feeling for the first time in his life like he was making a difference; like he was really helping, no matter how much she protested and complained.

Her heart wasn't in it, he could tell. He'd been on the end of it enough times to know. What he didn't know was how to help. Whenever he'd cried as a boy his grandmother had just looked at him sternly and told him to stop. That was not going to work here.

At a loss, he did the only thing he could do; he sat down on the floor, leaned against the desk, and waited. Either for inspiration or something to happen he could react to.

"Go away Neville!" Like that.

"I'm not going away Hermione. No matter how many times you tell me."

Her wailing sobs receded slightly, and she poke her head out to look at him, "Yes you will," she said accusingly.

"No, I won't" he replied with surprising calm.

Hermione crawled out from under the desk, sniffled, "You will."

"I won't."

With her emotion circuit overloaded and drawing power from all other available systems, her ability to argue was greatly reduced, "Will."

"Won't."

Neville pushed himself up from the floor and offered Hermione his hand. Dewey eyed; she considered the offer. Hesitantly, she took it. Neville smiled and Hermione felt an odd palpitation in the area of her chest.

"Come on, I'll take you to bed."

There was something in his wording that made Hermione want to giggle, "Really Neville, this is all so sudden."

Neville looked at her confused; a light dawned, then a full body blush as he began babbling like a terrified firsty. Hermione laughed. Grabbing him in a fierce possessive hug she laughed, and she cried. She didn't know why, it just sort of happened.

The crying got Neville to stop babbling and he held her, stroked her back, said "there, there." He still had no idea what he was supposed to do, but at least she was out from under the desk. He was too big to go crawling around in tiny spaces.

He was, but Harry wasn't. Quite the contrary. Unmeasured miles away, as the squirrel flies, Harry was safely ensconced in a small space of his own making. Finding adequate housing on short notice was always a bother so he preferred to make his own; quicker.

With his new travel companion, it was almost a necessity. Balled up in his little hollow, the tiny fairy lay mostly on top of him, grinning in her sleep. Apparently, he made for an excellent bed, or so he assumed.

She snored like tiny bells too; though her voice sounded very different to his squirrel ears. It sounded like actual words; words that made no sense to him at all which had been discouraging though not very. He'd mostly given up on communicating with her the normal way. It was okay, she found ways to get her point across.

Quietly snoozing in their hollow, an odd series of noises perked Harry's ears. Coming half awake, he opened his eyes. The night was full of life; denizens of the dark going about their business, or other people's business as some neighbors do. Nothing he could see accounted for this noise.

It was a clacking sound, heavy, trundling. Not a living thing, unless living things rolled. The pace of the sound triggered the circuit in his brain that read 'wheels', but they weren't like the wheels on a car or lorry. They were too hard, wooden. The sound reminded him of the carriages that brought students from the Hogwarts express up to the castle.

Just what was out there?

Without intending for it, his curiosity was piqued. He yawned to clear the sleep from his mouth then quietly scurried down the tree. His passenger didn't seem to notice her bed was moving; her body so light it clung, static like to his fuzzy body with no visible trouble. She snored on as he scampered from bush to bush.

The sound ceased after a time, but Harry kept his heading, rewarded moments later by new sounds; people sounds. The sounds of men, talking, working. The undergrowth distorted their words beyond understanding but they provided a direction and he navigated the detritus, closer and closer.

He was drawing near when he came across something that made him stop, revert to human. The ground had leveled, evened and hardened. Bringing his eyes to focus he could make out patches of stonework beneath the soil and leaf litter.

It was a road; a very old road by Harry's estimation, but the disturbance of the soil in a particular fashion suggested, recently used.

He was distracted by a tinkling sound and the passenger he forgot he was carrying climbed up onto his shoulder. She yawned; sitting on his shoulder she tinkled inquisitively. Harry pointed to the road which she saw nothing exceptional about.

The sound of struggle drew their attention and the inhuman snarling sent the fairy burrowing into Harry's neck while his wand slipped into his hand.

The racket grew louder as they followed the road; sounds of violence, and metal striking metal. "What the bloody hell?"

They saw a faint glow and came upon an open bed wagon. There was a fire burning just beyond and three men sitting around it. They all looked exhausted like they'd just done something strenuous; one held a heavy looking hammer.

Angry snarling to one side drew his attention; from his current vantage it was hard to see, but whatever it was, happy it was not.

"Ah, settle down. You're not going anywhere," said one of them with his back to it.

"Maybe I aught a bash'er in the head a bit," said the one with the hammer; his eagerness to do so making Harry uneasy.

"Leave'er be," said the third. "Sick a dealing with'er. How much farther?"

"Nother week."

"Bah! Just kill'er now. What're we even doin with the little monster."

The three men continued grumbling but Harry was too confused to listen. He needed to get a better look at whatever it was they had staked out, grunting so furiously.

Setting the fairy on the wagon seat and telling her to stay; he transformed and scurried around the men to their captive. Ducking through the foliage he slowly emerged and got his first look at 'her'.

She was wrapped in a dirty white sack of a dress. Her hands were pierced through with long iron nails, wrists manacled and bound to long rods. Her feet and ankles were similarly treated, binding her firmly to the ground.

'She' was a little girl, no more than ten by the look, with silvery pale hair. Harry was horrified, only slightly more so when her face turned up, glowing red eyes viciously stared and large flashing canines fit into a mouth too small for such.

Vampire. He'd studied them in his third year when Lupin had been teaching. They were supposed to be intelligent; this one looked like a rabid badger. Though, with metal nails in her hands and feet; Harry wondered if he'd be in any better frame of mind.

"Oy! Shut up!" A rock pelted out of the dark, striking her in the head. She whimpered into the dirt; it sounded like a small dog had been kicked. Harry heard the men laughing and scowled internally.

Scampering the full circuit around the camp he considered his options. He could leave; he'd no interest in associated with these men, too Dursley for his taste. But the vampire, what to do about her.

The wizarding world considered them dark creatures, but they said the same thing about werewolves. As the wolf, Lupin was dangerous; as the man, he was one of the best teachers he'd had at Hogwarts.

Harry knew nothing about this vampire; she was almost certainly not as young as she looked. The men could have very good reason for what they were doing. Perfectly good reasons, for throwing rocks at someone nailed to the ground.

The squirrel sighed. He was going to do it; he was going to stick his nose where it didn't belong. It was a bad idea. He could be making a huge mistake, he thought; until he heard the men talking.

"Not this again, come on."

"Why not? She's staked down. She can't get away."

"She's a monster, and you wanna stick your dick in'er."

"You see another hole around here?" The man with the hammer stood, adjusting his pants with a leer.

The other two shook their head but made no move to stop him. Thinking quickly, Harry scampered noisily around the camp, startling the men.

"What was that?"

"Squirrel," said the one with the hammer dismissively, turning back to his 'task'.

The squirrel in question was not so easily dismissed. Scurrying up the nearest tree, Harry launched himself through the darkness. The man never knew he was there till he slammed into the side of his head, clambering claws first.

The man panicked; flailing wildly, shouting epithets as Harry scrambled around his head. Stupidly he tried to swat at Harry, forgetting he had hammer in his hand, and cracked himself upside the head. His comrades finally came to his aid and Harry scampered back.

"The hell is it?"

"Weird looking squirrel."

He certainly was, and transforming right before their eyes proved it, "Evening."

The men gaped then went for their swords. Harry thrust an open palm and an invisible force knocked them off their feet. Before they could recover, he vanished, and they scrambled to circle so he couldn't sneak up on them.

"Wha… what the hell was that?" asked the one with the concussion.

"I much prefer who."

The trio jumped, at varying speeds, when Harry appeared out of nowhere. He sat on the opposite side of their campfire on an upturned log. The wand in his hand swished idly as he traded stares with the three armed and dangerous men.

"What are you?" they demanded.

"Not what, who," said Harry, feigning nonchalance.

They didn't care for his attitude, or his answer, "You some kinda wizard?"

Harry rolled his eyes at their fixation on his 'what', "Yes, some kind."

"What'chu want?" said the concussed man belligerently; or was it the head injury?

"I wonder, what you were about to do with that young lady?"

"She's a vampire!"

"Yes, I know." His demeanor remained clam, unprovocative; his hand continued to absently swish.

The three men's faces hardened, "Are you a necromancer?"

"I don't think so," he said with a look of genuine confusion. It would have helped if he knew what a necromancer was.

"What do you want wizard?"

"Not much," said Harry, "just like to know why you have that young lady staked to the ground."

"She's a vampire," said one like that was enough.

Harry didn't think it was, "And this is your reason for brutalizing her."

"She's an abomination! She shouldn't exist!"

Ouch! "Well that's not very nice," he said, flicking his wand, wondering how long it would take. They seemed to be running out of patience; holding back from attacking because he was an unknown quantity.

"Forget this! Let's just kill the stupid bastard. Wizards are an abomination too, right!"

Is that so. "You know what else wizards are?" said Harry, standing; the fire casting dark shadows across his face. "Not, to be trifled with."

The fire exploded, rising to the sky like a pyre. When it died down, Harry was gone.

"Shit! Where'd he go?"

The wizard's whereabouts became of secondary importance when they heard an animal growl behind them. As one they turned to find a small girl child, dripping blood from her hands and feet, staring at them with eyes of rage glowing hateful red.

'Oh shit' was on the tip of three tongues but screams of terror beat it off the mark as the little vampire tore into her captors.

"That looks painful," Harry reflected as he watched the carnage from a safe distance; sitting on the wagon.

The tiny vampire was inhumanly strong, tearing the arms off the man with the hammer and bludgeoning him into the ground.

The first with the sword managed one swing before her fangs were clamped around his neck, shaking him like he were a rat and she some great bloody hound.

The third held his sword but did not move; his entire body frozen by inhuman terror. A pitiful keening wail fell from his lips when the vampire turned her glowing eyes to him. Abruptly it ended, head thumping to the ground, pure terror forever writ across his face. Then, silence, no sound but the night and the crackling campfire's cheery light.

"That was quick," Harry said, a bit cavalier for just witnessing a triple murder.

The vampire, her task completed, stood panting, staring at her final kill. Her head snapped when she heard Harry approach. A wave and a "Hello," were preempted by a leaping lunge. Her fangs clamped down on air and Harry was behind her.

"I don't want to fight you," he tried to reason.

She didn't believe or just didn't hear him; howling, she lunged again, slashing air with nails like claws.

"Can we talk about this?"

No, appeared to be the answer. She chased him around the campsite, red eyes gleaming, snarling, incoherent. Harry quickly realized she was in no state of mind to talk and scampered up a tree, big squirrel eyes staring down between the tiny spring leaves.

His transformation seemed to confuse her. She didn't follow him up the tree; standing at the base and staring up as he stared down. Even when the fairy flittered over to join him, she kept staring; a slight tilt of her head the fairies only acknowledgment.

Well now what, Harry wondered? Staring, and for a change of pace, being stared at.


	15. Chapter 14

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 14 – An old man's lament

…

Hogwarts, finest magical institute in Britain, the whole world according to some. For so much of his life it had been the center of his world. That which he cared about more than anything.

Dumbledore sighed, a weary heavy sigh. The sort of sigh that can only be sighed by a very old, very tired man sighing.

Sigh!

He'd worked hard over the years to make Hogwarts great. Seen many a promising student walk through her gates. So full of life, potential, ambition. Into the world they went to make their mark, some for better, others not.

Horace Slughorn, the potions instructor before Snape, was a collector of such students; names and anecdotes to drop in social situations. Bragging rights for once having taught such exceptional wizards and witches.

Slughorn wished he could be so connected as Dumbledore. For Dumbledore, association didn't end at the gates, nor graduation. And he wasn't trying to collect them either. People knew Albus Dumbledore because Albus Dumbledore knew people. Not always of course, and that one mistake had cost him in more ways than he could count.

People often thought his defeat of Grindelwald was a great achievement. Such assumptions couldn't have been further from the truth if they were tied to a rocket powered broomstick. He lamented everything that had happened with his one-time friend. It provided excellent practice for what he was doing now.

He sat at the big window in his office, watching staff and 'students' working outside. They weren't really students; any more than Hogwarts was a school. Yet he couldn't help thinking of them as such. They were so young, inexperienced; so much yet to learn.

He lamented it, the loss of their youth, their innocence. He lamented how powerless he was to fix it. But for all his vast knowledge, the wisdom of a lifetime extensively lived, he could not. No one could.

He sensed the hand of a far greater power involved in the event. He'd a similar feeling the day Sybil Trelawney had marked one of two boys as the savior of the wizarding world. This too gave him cause to lament.

Harry Potter, what an absolute disaster. He often regretted doing what he felt best when the boy was little. That regret had recently been dwarfed by the unmitigated bungling he'd performed trying to leash that boy, who quite without his noticing had become something like a man. The sort of man who gave no thought to tangling head on with dragons.

A dragon, coincidentally, that had not been seen since Harry's departure.

A rueful bitter chuckle passed his lips. He'd tried to keep the boy out of danger, but when had trying to keep that boy out of danger ever worked?

He'd willingly left him in danger during the tournament. He'd left him to the sadism of Dolores Jane Umbridge for months knowing full well what she was capable of. Why had he thought he could, or should, protect him now?

The answer was actually self-evident. Control; his overwhelming need to be in control of the situation. Something he very much was not.

Projects ran all over the school. Hogwarts was slowly coming back to life through the hard work and determination of far too few. Meanwhile others plotted and schemed on how best to exploit them, and what was he doing? Moping in his office.

The very idea depressed him, making him mope all the harder, a vicious cycle. Like a wiener dog chasing its tail. That was Dumbledore, a wiener in a circle, a donut dog.

Fortunate for him, there was a Scottish terrier who would be having none of his nonsense and she made this abundantly clear the moment she walked in the door and saw him moping at the window.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!"

The ancient and powerful wizard flinched like a naughty schoolboy. She only used his full name when she was angry. "Hello Minerva. How are you this fine day."

She wasn't buying it, his penitence. The eyebrow told him it wasn't working. Minerva had very loud eyebrows, at least the one was very expressive. If only it wasn't expressing things he didn't want expressed directly at him he wouldn't mind so much.

"Albus, what are you doing?"

He resisted the flinch this time; composed himself through a method developed after many years of practice, and then, gave the appropriate answer, "Nothing." Shit! Wrong answer.

He knew it was the wrong answer, the eyebrow told him; it said, do I look like I was born yesterday Mr. Weasley. It was shameful really; he was a much better liar than any Weasley.

"You look like you're moping."

"I wasn't." He was.

"Albus, this has to stop!" Her heels clicked as she marched across the floor. Never had he heard such angry footwear. "You've been hiding in your office for weeks. It needs to stop."

"I am not hiding Minerva." No, he was moping, important distinction.

"We were all upset when Har… when Mr. Potter left." The truth of that statement shown most keenly in the tight lines of her face. "No one regrets his departure more than I."

Albus felt he could make a strong argument to the contrary. It hadn't been she who had treated him like a child, used his own friend to spy on him. It was not Minerva McGonagall who had driven Harry Potter from Hogwarts by making all the wrong decisions.

"BUT!" and she was very clear to emphasize her but, "we cannot allow one student leaving to make us forget about all the rest. There is a castle full of people who need you Albus. Your leadership, your wisdom, maybe even just your ridiculous sense of humor."

Dumbledore snorted, "Ridiculous?"

"Patently absurd," she said, her tired old face cracking just a hint of a smile.

It made Albus smile as well. "Spose it is, isn't it."

"Come along Albus. There's nothing to be done sitting up here all by yourself."

She was right of course, he knew. Quite often that was the case. Not that he'd ever tell her. She was already looking at him so smugly. If her head got any bigger, she'd be insufferable.

"Good morning Headmaster!"

"Good morning Mr. Johnson."

"Hello Headmaster."

"How are you Miss Belle."

"Lovely day isn't it Headmaster?"

"Marvelous day Mr. Tinpeach."

"Thomson."

"Thomson, of course."

The halls shone with late morning sunshine as the two of them strode through the castle. Faces lit up as he passed and "Good morning headmaster," followed wherever he went. He'd forgotten this. Shame as he was to admit. Having been a symbol to so many people for so long, it was strange he'd forgotten what that meant, the responsibility.

"Good morning children."

"Good morning Headmaster," the pair replied.

"Good morning Headmaster," the large lizard added, not to be left out.

"Ah, yes, the gentle lizard who recently joined us. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Well that's lovely," said the lizard with genuine delight. "I am called Wizard. It sounds like lizard which is what I am."

"And are you a wizard Mr. Wizard?" Dumbledore asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"There's been some speculation about that actually," the lizard called Wizard suggested. "We've not had a proper chance to test it, no wand you see, but those delightful gentlemen that look like each other seem keen to fix that and I am most curious to find out."

"Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous."

It really was, marvelous that is, and he'd been missing it. The departure of Harry Potter weighed on him for many reasons, but Minerva was right, there was a castle full of people who needed him, some of whom he'd yet to meet. He'd been shirking, shirking his responsibility to them; all of them.

It shamed him, but he would not let it hold him down again. He was responsible, for all of them. Their care, their safety, it was why he'd become the headmaster of Hogwarts in the first place. To be the guiding hand that led the next generation to greatness.

It was with that in mind he wandered into the library, sending Hermione Granger into a babbling fit. And it was there he was when they found him, looking fretful and urgent and telling him Professor Sprout very much needed his help.

A large group marched out of the castle with Dumbledore at its head and Minerva at his side. Hermione had insisted on coming which meant her second shadow, also called Neville Longbottom, was barely a step behind.

Working nearby the Weasley twins had sensed the tone of things and joined the group without a word. Pomona Sprout saw them all coming as they passed the woodcutters and scanned the sky frantically.

"Are we under attack?" she asked when the group came to a halt.

"Are we?" He didn't think so. It didn't look like it; didn't sound like it either.

"I'm sorry, you all just looked so…" said the stout woman, breathing a sigh of relief.

Dumbledore joined her, afraid for a moment that… well, that's not important. "I was told you require my assistance Pomona."

"It would be greatly appreciated," she said, leading Dumbledore, and by extension his posse', across a roughly tilled field.

"How goes the planting?" he inquired as they walked.

"We've hit a snag I'm afraid. That's why I called for you."

"I'm always glad to help Pomona, but I'm really not much of a gardener."

The plant professor smiled, "If I needed help with a gardening problem it'd be time to hang up my hat."

"You'd still remember to water it though of course."

"Oh Albus."

His sense of humor. "So, what does seem to be the trouble?"

"We found something, while we were tilling and breaking out stumps. Thought it was just a rock at first, dinged the plow quite good." She gestured to an old fashion plow sitting nearby, its blade crumpled like tinfoil.

"Someone got a bit excited?"

"A bit," she agreed. "We tried pulling it out, but it wouldn't move, and that was the strange thing. We were using magic, but it had no effect. Any magic we cast at it just slides off."

A peculiar phenomenon, "I am familiar with no naturally occurring substance which has such an effect," he said gravely.

"Nor I," Minerva piped in. "You think, some sort of artifact?"

"Possibly. Though we shouldn't dismiss the possibility this world has thing ours did not."

It was exciting and frightening at the same time. They would need to approach it with greatest caution, which made the sight of a half dozen students and a couple dozen shovels hard at work a little discouraging.

"Oh my! It's bigger than I thought it would be."

The shovels had dug a growing hole six feet down around a massive piece of stone; or at least, that's what it looked to be at first glance. Perhaps crystal would have been more accurate; in shades of gold and brown from dull plane rock to almost luminescent

"Most unusual." And most curious that they should find it so close to the castle. Was there hidden meaning to it. Or was it mere coincidence?

"You spose it is?" asked Fred.

"A mystery," said George.

"Oh bother!"

"Yeah, like we didn't have enough of those already."

Chuckling at the delightful doppelgangers, Albus drew his wand and went to work. Strengthening the walls of the new hole and pulling out a simple staircase he descended, cautiously approaching the stone.

Minerva stood off watching vigilantly but the twins were casting almost as quick as he. The results were discouraging if not expected. Magic just slides off, she'd said, and just so. Every spell he cast failed; not to cast, he knew everything was working right on his end, he could feel it.

"Anything?" he asked the twins.

They shook their heads. "If we were blind, we'd never even know it was there."

"Like that time, we greased up that pig to see if Bill could catch it."

"No grip."

"Slides right off."

How perplexing.

"Do you think you can get it out of there?" Sprout called down to them. "Only, we'd like to use this space, but we can't with that in the way."

It may have been true, but Dumbledore was more worried about the danger it might pose. Could be this was nothing of note on this world, just an odd bit of rock. Or maybe it was a valuable ore, prized by the natives for its unique attributes.

What worried Dumbledore was the possibility it might be something else; more than it appeared or possessing other potentially detrimental qualities not yet evident. It was a mystery, a puzzling puzzle. One thing was for certain though, they weren't going to find any answers standing around in a hole.

"It only goes down a couple more feet."

"If we harden the base around it, we should be able to lift it right out."

The twin's summation proved accurate and with a little work the strange slab of stone was lifted from the hole and carried up to the castle. They didn't bring it inside nor park it too close to the door, but it would be a short walk. A short walk Dumbledore expected to be making frequently.

The strange stone would give him something to work on, a project of his own to ply his talents. Putting it outside would mean leaving his office, being seen by those that needed to see.

It wasn't the first time someone had found a mystery in the dirt, and Albus was looking forward to where this mystery in the dirt might take him.

Harry on the other hand, was not.

Sitting at a burned-out campfire he stared at an overturned wagon. She was under there. The tiny girl vampire, after killing her captors and spending most of the night in a staring war with him, had flipped the wagon like it were a toy before crawling underneath as the sun crept over the horizon.

He'd waited till the sun was well up before risking investigation, finding the earth beneath disturbed, shoved up into a mound, and the vampire nowhere in sight.

Sherlock Holmes he was not, but it didn't take a detective to figure out where she was. He could have used a Watson though to tell him why, if only he could narrow it down to a single question.

Why had she attacked him? Why had she been captured? Why did she bury herself under an overturned wagon?

It was a mystery, buried in the dirt. It may have been stupid to expect anything, but he'd gone to the trouble of freeing her; if he was willing to invest that much effort, a little more wouldn't hurt.

Hopefully.


	16. Chapter 15

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 15 – A Rose by any other name

…

The last light of day was fading when he heard it.

Shadows grew long and merged into greater blackness as the sound of moving earth echoed from under the wagon. Darkness lay fully over all when she emerged, crawling from under the wagon like a child who'd been playing hide and seek.

She stretched, yawned, then noticed she was being watched. Harry sat by the dead fire pit, yellow rings around his eyes giving them a faint, unearthly glow. "You're still here." It wasn't a question, despite the tone implying disbelief.

"You can talk?" Harry fired back.

"Course I can," she said petulantly. "Why would you think I couldn't."

"Didn't seem too chatty last night."

That caught her off guard if the gasp was anything to go by, "Yes, well. I was upset!" she exclaimed with a hint of whine that Harry found off putting. It made it difficult to rationalize the little girl before him with the monster he'd seen last night.

"Why are you here?"

"I was planning to ask you the same question."

A flick of his wand and a whispered word filled the fire pit with blue flames. The little vampire squeaked, jumping behind the wagon before he realized she'd moved.

"YOU— you make fire!" she said accusingly. "Why is it blue?"

"What's wrong with blue?"

She growled at his uncooperativeness. Not like an animal or unholy abomination, but like an angry little girl. Chuckling, he reached his hand into the blaze; the vampire squeaking behind the wagon as he lifted a piece of blue fire.

"It's magical," he explained. "It doesn't really burn."

She appeared unconvinced at first, cowering behind the wagon. Hesitantly, she snuck around her fortification; creeping on all fours she approached the fire.

"You don't like fire?" Harry asked, watching her stare at the bluebell flame like it was something queer; a three-headed dog, just as an example.

"Vampires are highly flammable," she commented absently. "We go up like dry kindling."

Interesting, Harry thought, noticing her attention had shifted to his wand.

"So, this wand, it makes blue fire?"

"Uh, not specifically. It does whatever I make it do."

"How's that?" Her look of confusion made him wonder if she'd ever seen a wand before.

"It's just a tool I use to do spells. I use it for all kinds of magic."

"You 'need' it to do magic?"

He didn't miss the derision in her tone, feeling his hackles rise just slightly. "We're taught to use it to do magic. I've been teaching myself to do some spells without it."

She stared at his magical implement and shook her head, "Strange."

"And what would you use it for?" he shot back, catching himself just enough to keep from snapping.

She didn't seem to notice, "All the wands I've ever seen were single spell tools. People carry them around for magic they don't know or as a last-ditch weapon once they've run out of mana."

Her answer turned the heat down to a low simmer, partly because he didn't understand all the things she'd said. Lucky, because her continued staring threatened to focus him and turn the heat back up. "What?"

"You're not from this world."

He wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement but the way she nodded he assumed she must have determined the answer. "Are you?"

"Not originally," she said, rolling off her knees and sitting down properly. "I came through a portal about fifty years ago when my world was falling apart."

"Falling apart!"

She nodded like it were no big deal; oh, nice day today, lovely weather, my goodness is that the end of the world I see coming our way.

"A couple idiots found some artifacts that were never supposed to be brought together and decided to go to war with each other."

"Bringing them together?" She nodded. "Stupid. Did they know?"

"Couldn't say," she shrugged. "I wasn't involved. The undead side in general wasn't that interested in the fight. They were just waiting till it was over so they could go collect the corpses."

"Charming."

She grinned wickedly at him, "Do you not know what necromancers do?"

He didn't, but he wasn't willing to say so if she was going to tease him about it. He was beginning to consider it when he noticed she was staring again; not at him this time.

"I see you kept them."

Washed the blood off too. In the glow of the bluebell flame the long iron nails glinted peculiar colors.

"Wasn't sure what to expect when you came out," he said, collecting one of the nails and running his thumb along the length.

"And you still stuck around?"

"No one's ever accused me of good judgement," he said, and then proved it when his thumb reached the end of the nail. "Ouch!"

_ Idiot._

It wasn't a great pain, mores the pity. The sort of little pain that fades quickly is soon repeated, lacking the staying power of something more serious. The sharp end of the nail was surprisingly honed; the pain wasn't great, but it had drawn blood.

"Dammit! Of all the stupid," Harry complained, sucking the thumb when it welled up, a single crimson drop that returned a soon as it was out of his mouth. "Dammit all! What was that spell?"

He'd put a few simple healing spells in his grimoire while he'd been working on it, but had only glanced at them, planning to read and study them later. Later would have to wait a little longer as he felt the stare without needing to see it.

Her eyes were fixated, unwavering. The single drop of blood tainting the color of her ocular orbs. Breath came quickly; mouth open revealed oversized canines glinting in the inappropriately cheery blue flame.

'Oh shit' had barely time to cross his mind when she lunged, pushing him into the ground with a strength normally reserved for groups of large strapping lads. Reflex threw her off and into the detritus; reflex and the enhancement that roared through his body like a reflex.

She came back fast, scrambling on all fours. Diving, she tackled air; landing nimbly, she scoured the area and found him in an instant. Her eyes glowed, crimson orbs, streaks flashing through the darkness; she darted, zigging and zagging, trying to spoof her attack angle.

It mattered not, as his move didn't depend on her attack vector. One second he was there, the next, air.

He reappeared halfway up the tree from the previous night, pulling a daring midair transformation and latching onto the thick, rough bark.

The tiny vampire rushed the tree, halting abruptly at the base, turning her head up to stare at him with her glowing red eyes.

And just like that they were back to square one, him in the tree and her standing sentry. Wonderful.

Not interested in another staring contest, he left the branch and scampered further up the tree. A glowing ball of a doll like girl sat next to his bag, tucked into the crook of a branch. She said something in her tinkly voice; he didn't understand the words, but he didn't need to. He'd gotten the 'I told you so' enough times from Hermione to recognize one by tone and cadence alone.

He roughly nudged the smug fairy who became no less smug for the treatment. Climbing all over him as he settled on the branch the fairy dimmed, and Harry set to wait. He could still see her down below, staring.

He didn't know why she didn't come up after him. She lacked none of the physical ability to scale the tree and continue the chase. Why didn't she?

This single question took up residence at the forefront of his mind, building a nice house with a backyard and a little garden good for sitting on long afternoons. He was still thinking on it as he nodded off, only to be woken several hours later by a horrible sound.

It was high and shrill. It rang his most primal instincts like a bell on Sunday. Something, or someone, was whining, loudly.

The fairy stirred along with everything within hearing distance. Harry shook himself, dislodging his groggy occupant into the air where she flittered slowly, stretching out the sleep. Harry gave his face a quick once over before peeking down through the branches.

The vampire was gone, or so it appeared. He scurried to a lower branch where he had a clear view to survey. It didn't take him long to find her, she wasn't hiding.

The whining wail echoed from the tiny girl, sitting in the middle of the clearing for the whole world to see. Every hair on his body stood on end. It was an old sound, programmed into the brain of every creature with even a hint of nurturing instinct.

I'm weak. I'm helpless. I'm scared. In a single, horrible, gut-wrenching sound she said all these things and more. It took all Harry's not inconsiderable will to keep him in the tree when all he wanted to do was go down there and make everything better.

He was going to have to do something. He couldn't sit there listening to 'that' indefinitely without doing something; and the longer he waited the more likely that something was going to get him killed, or something else equally unpleasant.

Giving his branch a quick check, he changed back to human. Then, he layered on a full enhancement, palmed his wand, and vanished.

He reappeared ten feet behind her, close enough to talk, but far enough to dodge a lunge without trouble. He could see her opening her mouth for another auditory assault and he rushed to cut her off.

"STOP!" he shouted, giving away any element of surprise when she turned to look at him. Her eyes glistened, not glowed, their inhuman malevolence replaced by very human pain. She looked like she'd been crying. "What is your problem?"

"I'm hungry," she said, sniffling and looking expectantly.

If he were Japanese, his face would have been in the ground. As he was a proper stoic Englishman who didn't take with any of that silly foreign nonsense thank you very much; he merely covered his face with his hand, abruptly.

"And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?"

"Feed me," she whimpered.

"I am not letting you suck my blood."

"I don't need your blood; I need your vital energy."

"Huh?" His brain scrambled for anything it could find from the report he'd written for Lupin about vampires. Anything concerning the words vital or energy.

Invalid Search

"Vital energy, the energy of life. The energy all living things produce just by virtue of being alive," she explained, wiping teary eyes with tiny hands. "Blood is just a medium to transfer the energy. I don't even need to drink it, just touch it with my fangs."

Made sense, sorta. "This energy, do I need it?"

"… yeeeeeees."

"No."

"Aaaaaw! But I'm Hungry!"

Cringing under her whining assault, "Stoppit! Ugh. Stop doing that. I'm gonna start calling you Whine from now on."

"My name is Rosebud!" she pouted.

"Rosebud," snicker, "really?"

"What is wrong with Rosebud!"

"Nothin." Cept it's silly.

"Well, what's your name then?"

"Harry."

"That's stupid."

Harry scowled, "And why is that stupid?"

She looked him square in the eye, smirked, "You're not hairy at all."

He snorted before he could catch himself, "That- that was bad," he said over stifled chuckles.

He might have broken down if she hadn't started whining again, "Hungry."

"What am I supposed to do!"

"Feed me."

"No."

"It doesn't have to be you. Doesn't even have to be human."

That calmed him, some. There'd been little conflict, morally, letting her tear apart her three captors. Some poor innocent was a whole other matter. Animals he had no qualms about, so long as he didn't know them.

A curious squirrel watching them from a nearby tree fell to a stunner and avoided a groundward plummet when it was summoned to Harry's waiting hand.

"Bigger." Rejecting his offering earned her a frustrated look. "Small animals don't have enough vital energy to be worth the effort. They also don't handle fangs very well."

Obvious if he'd stopped to think about it. "Alright. What's my minimum?"

"Rabbit," she said immediately. "Full grown," she added, "anything smaller is no good."

Sadly, unlike squirrels, all the good little bunnies were tucked away in their burrows, not watching the midnight variety show starring Harry Potter.

He thought about the problem. He thought and thought, he thought way too long before coming to the obvious answer which made him feel stupid for thinking about it so much. "Duh."

A hand reached out toward the tree he'd been sleeping in and a bag flew through the night air with a tiny glowing ball attached.

"You have a fairy," said Rosebud.

"She doesn't belong to me," said Harry, scrounging around his bag for the lure stone.

"She follows you around?"

"Yes."

"She belongs to you."

"According to who?"

"According to her."

He'd no idea what that was supposed to mean and didn't much care either when he finally found what he was looking for. He activated the stone, grabbed Rosebud, and went to the wagon, putting out the still burning fire as he passed.

"What was that?"

"A lure."

"What are we doing?"

"Hiding."

"Why?"

"So we don't frighten them away," he said with an impatient sigh. "Anything else?"

"Where do babies come from?"

Glaring down at the little smirker, "Don't be a smartass."

Time stretched like shadows at sundown. With varying degrees of patience, they waited. "How long is this gonna take?"

"Somewhere else you need to be?"

"I'm…"

"Don't! start that again."

It didn't take long, relatively speaking, for the lures effect to become visible. Tiny shapes shifting the detritus. A small rabbit, then a slightly larger rabbit. The chubby raccoon swaggering onto the scene got her mouth watering.

"It really works."

Deciding not to be offended by her disbelief, "Patience. It always takes the big ones a bit longer."

Small to medium sized beasts continued to pile up and just when Harry was beginning to think there was nothing bigger within range, the bushes shook, and out he came. Regal, magnificent; he walked with the measured trod of a king; his noble bearing parting the lesser beasts before him. If he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have believed such a thing could exist.

But there he was, da turdy point buck.

It was, without question the largest deer he'd ever seen. Possessed of a rack he could very much admire, and not fear a good slap across the face for doing so. "Alright, probably not gonna get better than that. I'll stun him then you…" he halted when he realized he was talking to himself.

Rosebud crossed the distance with slow but deliberate steps. The power off the lure kept the deer's attention off her till she was barely a leap away. It took a reflexive step back, looking ready to run. But then it stopped, relaxed.

From where he sat it was hard to tell what she'd done but the result was the deer calmly approaching and turning back its head, exposing its neck. Even turned away from him he was sure he saw the glint of her fangs just before they pushed into the beast's neck.

The deer flinched slightly, like a timid new lover, her maidenhead taken. Stillness followed; the scene frozen by an invisible force; apprehension? It was broken when Rosebud pulled away suddenly. The deer staggered and fell, a final keening wail dying on its lips.

The rest were gone in barely two blinks, leaving Rosebud alone with her victim, panting.

Cautiously, Harry approached, ready to apparate at a moment's notice, "You okay?"

Startled, the little vampire rushed to get herself under control. "Yes! Yes, I- just, really needed that. Almost went too far."

"Too far?" an inquisitive eyebrow asked, observing the very dead, but no less magnificent, male deer.

"I almost took it all. That would have been bad."

"Why?" She looked at him uncertainly. He shrugged, "You don't have to tell me."

Shaking her head, face scrunching in thought, "It's just, how to explain to someone that's never 'felt' it."

"In small, easy to understand words."

"Now who's being a smartass."

He was. Big stupid grinning smartass.

"Alright, let's try this." Her demeanor changed suddenly, and Harry felt as though McGonagall had replaced the tiny vampire. "When a naturally living creature is conceived, a spark is created. That spark is death, or more accurately, anti-life."

"Okay."

"While in the womb, the mothers body feeds vital energy into the growing body to counteract the pull of this anti-life spark. If that energy ever drops too low, the spark consumes what little energy the baby is able to create, killing it."

"I see."

"Once the baby can produce enough vital energy of its own to counter the anti-life spark, its usually born. And thus, the lifelong battle begins. With me so far?"

"I think so."

"Once born, the body must produce enough vital energy at all times to be greater than the anti-life spark, which a healthy body does, easily. All that extra energy goes into things like growth and maintenance.

"Most illnesses are a direct result of low reserves of vital energy, and the bigger and older you get, the bigger the spark gets."

"So, natural death happens when the spark becomes stronger than the amount of energy the body can create," he surmised.

"Very good."

She sounded inordinately pleased, and he tried very hard not to smile at the affirmation.

"So, how does all this tie into you?"

"Unlike living things, undead have no anti-life spark, we have a spark of undeath."

"Kay," undead, undeath, "and what does that do."

"The exact opposite, mostly. Rather than trying to kill us, it serves to keep us alive without vital energy, at a cost. It's also been called the spark of madness which should give you some idea."

"You mean, when you went crazy earlier."

"Vital energy has a soothing effect on the undead madness. It's why all undead except lich's hunger for living things. Vampires were particularly well designed for this. Lesser undead like skeletons and zombies were not."

"So, zombies eat brains." How cliché.

"Or anything else they can get their teeth into." Slightly less cliché. "It's never enough. A zombie could gorge on flesh all day long and never collect enough vital energy to become fully cognizant. It's even worse for skeletons, having nowhere to keep any of it."

A humorously depressing thought. "So how does the anti-life spark come into this?"

"The anti-life spark is pure destruction. I've actually heard it theorized if someone could remove their anti-life spark, they would essentially be immortal."

"And this has to do with you, how?"

"It doesn't."

"Grrr!"

"Well it's still interesting. Anyway. The undeath spark is, in its way, akin to life, making it an opposite to the anti-life spark."

"So, if you took that in?"

She nodded, "I would die. Again. Permanently."

"So, vampires don't really feast on blood like they say?" Or did they even say? Were the vampires back home just radically different.

"No, they do."

"Huh? But you just said…"

A raised hand halted him midsentence. "I said we don't 'need' to drink blood, and we don't. A goblet full of blood outside the body has an abysmal amount of vital energy. Half a squirrel at most."

"Then, why?"

"Fetish mostly. You see it a lot in the very young who are too stupid to feed efficiently, or the very old who are way too into theme's and motifs. It's pointless and wasteful, but there you are."

Pointless and wasteful; clearly the undead weren't so different from the living.

"Are you all full up then?"

"I could eat," she reflected.

"Are you going to go crazy and chase me around if you don't?"

"I suppose not," she said with an overdramatic sigh.

Rolling his eyes at the little vampire he was hesitant to admit he was beginning to like, "I'm gonna turn this off then."

Collecting his lure and giving it a double tap; it was just sliding into his bag when the sound of bushes shaking caught his attention. "Sounds like seconds."

"Ooooo!"

Happily skipping over to join him, they waited as the approach became louder and louder. "Sounds big."

"Yummy."

Harry chuckled at her exuberance, a mirth that shriveled up like a grape in the sun when the source of the noise shouldered his way into the clearing with a heavy snort.

"Oh shit!"

"Calydonian boar."

The massive hog was near identical to the monster pig that he and Hagrid had brought down with massive effort. The difference now was a disturbing lack of half giant assistance.

"Any chance we can pass on this one?"

The tongue running hungrily across her lips suggested, no.

"Shit!" WHY! "Where's Hercules when you need him."

Probably in a bar trading shots with Thor.

(You know you were thinking it too. Don't give me that look.)


	17. Chapter 16

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 16 – A Rose's petals are

…

The first rays of morning touched lightly the parapets of Hogwarts castle. Gentle smoke wafted up from the kitchen in playful billowing rings. Birds sang their morning report, perched on a giant crystal stone some distance from the gates and hopped about industriously among the woodpiles in search of bits for their nests.

It was calm, peaceful, tranquil.

In other words, boring; so, lets jump a few dozen miles, as the dragon flies, and look at something more interesting.

A small clearing, no; a small battlefield lie still under the rising sun. Signs of recent conflict arranged the small space like a mural of nature, the violent sort. A once magnificent buck had been doe'd by a rampaging Caladonian boar; now deceased. His ultimately fatal struggle responsible for the rearranging of the small forest clearing.

He'd been a magnificent beast, escaping a dozen hastily magicked snares and traps; entangling vines, three mud pits, even a spike filled hole. It was only through time and persistence the great beast was bested. His vital energy drained nearly dry, allowing a fatal wound to slip through his armor like hide.

It was a good death, an exhausting death.

Exhausting for Harry anyway who'd done most of the fighting and trapping. Harry who still needed to deal with two corpses worth of hide, meat, and other assorted parts. Harry, who lay exhausted near the remains of the fire pit while the well sated vampire went about her business out of the sun, under her overturned wagon.

What that business was he didn't know, nor care. Somewhere throughout the battle with the boar his give-a-damn had been broken and the repair crew was taking their time to fix it, lazy union bastards.

Left to his own devices he may have lay there significantly longer, but outside forces were moving against such a poorly conceived notion.

"UNBELIEVABLE!"

The cry of outrage had him sitting straight up faster than was necessarily healthy. "What! What is it?"

There was much grumbling from beneath the wagon before a response came. "Three spools of thread and not a damn needle to be found."

He considered her words for a moment, then abruptly flopped back into the trampled earth, groaning. "I am too tired for this shit." And he couldn't go to sleep either. He needed to process the deer and the boar before the smell of meat attracted other things.

"Harry!"

"What!"

"Do you have a needle?"

No, but that wasn't hard to change. "What kind."

"The pointy kind."

Smartass. "What size?"

"Finger size."

"Which finger?"

"Pinky."

"Mine or yours?"

"Uh, mine."

Dragging himself upright he located a bit of twig and held it in his closed hand. It was a first-year transfiguration; he felt, and by extension saw, the transformation; his wand lay on the splintered log where he'd dropped it earlier.

"I'm getting pretty good at this whole wandless thing." He could almost imagine a day when he'd no longer need the wand at all. Not today though, he had stuff to do.

He lifted the back gate of the wagon just enough to stick his arm inside, "Oo, that'll do." The needle was taken, and he pulled his arm out.

"Call if you need anything."

She didn't respond and he didn't wait.

Locating his bag, he pulled out some meat, broke off a bit of cheese and filled a cup from his water jar. "Not much of this left," he said of the cheese. Water was easy and he'd just come into a wealth of meat; cheese on the other hand he had no way of making and since it didn't grow on trees, when it was gone, it was gone.

Unless he located some sort of civilization soon. The idea gave him mixed feelings, mostly with concern to the nature of said civilization.

Unlike most people his age, Harry had seen both the bright and the dark side of two worlds. The beautiful façade painted over the ugly base. He didn't believe Rosebud was as innocent as she appeared but there was no ambiguity about the nature of the men she had killed.

The truth of the matter was likely somewhere in the middle, but he didn't really have time to think about it. Even with food and drink he felt like a lead weight, but he needed to work.

Sitting roughly, he went through several of the exercises he'd learned as part of the enhancement magic. Fifteen minutes, he felt mostly human and only slightly dog. It was enough to pull out his grimoire and read through the spells Jake Curry had taught him.

Of course, he put them in the grimoire; or to be more accurate, the twins had put them in. Since he was hiding it from Hermione, the twins had done most of the entry work. Everything he asked for was there in the index; plus, a lot of stuff he hadn't asked for.

He wasn't surprised, it was Fred and George. It would have been surprising if they hadn't done something.

The spells were relatively new to him; new and unpracticed. Since its hide wasn't a foot thick and resistant to magic, he started with the deer.

This turned out to be relatively easy; a few cuts in the right places then the skinning spell and the pelt came right off, dumping the guts and other entrails all over the ground.

The real difficulty was trying not to vomit.

The rabbit Jake had let him practice on had been so much neater; now that he thought about it, purely by virtue of being smaller and having less 'guts' to dump out.

"That hog is gonna be a nightmare." And he still had to cut up the deer.

Letting the carcass hang, he read through the spells to tan the hide. He didn't need to tan it, but Jake had assured him when he asked, "A tanned hide will last longer." He had no knowledge to the contrary, so he was gonna tan that hide.

The antlers were a total loss, which made him kind of sad. They served no greater purpose apart from looking cool, but they did look really cool.

An hour and a half and it was done. The hide was stored; the meat was both frozen and slapped with a long-term stasis charm to keep it from going bad. Cramming it all in there however had revealed a problem.

Not a lack of space, he had plenty of that. The problem was, it was getting a little messy in his bag, disorganized, "And that boar is going to take up way more room."

He could shrink things, but that came with its own problems. Casually throwing spells on top of spells was a good way to ruin something; not to mention highly enchanted objects, like the water bottle, did not like being just shrunk.

He could probably figure out how to do it. The information was almost certainly in his grimoire, somewhere. But time was at a premium and he needed to get that boar taken care of.

In the end his solution was to take out everything that wasn't meat, even the hide, and set it aside to put back in later, on top.

That complete, there was no more stalling; it was time to gut the hog. Several problems immediately became apparent.

Firstly, even dead, its hide resisted magic. Not as strongly as when alive, but just cutting it open required not only wand, but wand motion and spoken incantation. He was much better with his cutter than that.

He wasn't wandless yet, but he was well beyond the need for incantation. This set the tone for the rest of the day.

Peeling the hide was like trying to skin concrete. The guts were spilling out before he was a quarter done which forced him to stop and move his work; unable to stomach the smell.

"Most quadrupeds are fairly similar under the skin," Jack had told him. In some regards this was true. They all had four legs, the guts were in the middle and they stank. Beyond that Harry was getting a very crude lesson in boar anatomy and how it varied from deer and rabbit.

He didn't appreciate it much given his arms kept going numb as he peeled the hide; a job just half completed by lunch time.

"Bloody hell!" The right side of the boar was fully peeled as he stood panting. "If I never see another one of these, it'll be too soon."

"How goes it?" Rosebud inquired when he collapsed against the wagon to rest. "I've been smelling viscera for hours. You should probably bury that soon."

"I'm—getting to it," he said, winded after walking barely thirty feet.

"Sounds like you're working hard."

"And how's your project coming?"

"Quite nicely I think."

"Do I get to see it?"

"Maybe. If I think you've been good."

Harry snorted tiredly. Sassy little vampire.

He could practically hear the smug smile. He hadn't realized how much he missed this; having someone to talk to. The fairy was company sure, but she made for rather one-sided conversation.

"Can I ask you something," he ventured, fighting to stay awake.

"I suppose." Her put upon air made him chuckle.

"The other night, did you bury yourself?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't let me eat you."

He didn't know where he found the energy to laugh, but he did; long and hard. He tried firing back, but his wit had jumped ship at the first sign of madness, so he just stood there laughing till his side hurt.

"You—you may just kill me yet," he wheezed, gripping his aching side.

"And you thought I was just a cute face and nice teeth."

"NO!" he shouted, holding his screaming, quivering side. "No more. You won't get me today, do you hear." He staggered away from the wagon, fully conscious of the muffled tittering, and went back to work. Any more rest like this probably would kill him.

He managed the remainder of the hide in an hour, easier with one half already done. Then it was time to cut him up which revealed two things; it wasn't just the hide that resisted magic, and it was a good thing he wasn't called Harry Butcher because he did an absolute hack job of it.

He was certain the bacon was in there somewhere, but hell if he could find it.

By the time he'd finished spelling and storing it his bag was looking quite crowded and he had reached a level of exhaustion where he was too tired to sleep, leaving him to lay, groaning, next to the newly repaired firepit.

With the sunset came darkness, and with darkness, the vampire. "Good evening."

Barely able to turn his head, Harry observed her mostly out of the corner of his eye. "Nice dress." It was surprisingly frilly albeit quite simple and completely black.

"I would have liked something with lace, but you wouldn't expect a bunch of men to be carrying that."

Speaking of carrying, "What's the book?" A heavy black tome framed in metal bones with a metal skull on the cover.

"This, is a necromantic tome. A book of spells for the raising and managing of undead," she said. "This is why I was captured."

"You steal it?"

She nodded, plopping down on the log next to the one that was his pillow. "From a group of book burners."

"Book burners?"

"Servants of the holy empire. To them all magic that doesn't come from their god is considered an abomination and should be destroyed. Necromancy though, that's like an abomination's abomination. They really hate undead."

"You mean more than other people," he said, too tired for tact.

"Oh yes," she replied, entirely unfazed. "As much as the living and undead are antagonistic to one another, the holy empire takes it to a whole other level. It's their god that's the problem."

"How's that?"

"He's a god of light. All the gods of light and true life stand in opposition to the gods of undeath. It's why holy magic hurts us like it does."

"Huh," he was learning so much; now the question was, how much would he remember when he woke up? If he ever managed to fall asleep. "So, is that why the sun hurts you."

"Yes and no. There's actually two parts to that."

"Double trouble."

"Are you going to continue being so silly?"

"Maybe." He was too tired to be serious. He was also too Harry to be Sirius.

"Vampires, as a form of undead, are highly magical. However, we are aligned entirely to two elements of mana, earth and air."

"Mana?"

"The energy that allows us to perform magic. How do 'you' not know that?"

Bad student probably, "Never heard it called that. We just called it magic."

"Huh, odd. Anyway. Because we are purely aligned to only two elements, we are essentially in opposition to the other two. The sun, besides being the scornful eye of light, is also the richest source of fire mana outside the elemental plane of fire."

"Then that would mean your weak to water?"

"Correct."

"How do you take a bath?"

"A special concoction of herbs mutes the mana, mostly. You fell a little weak if you take too long but at least it doesn't burn."

"I thought you'd just bath in blood or something," vampire after all.

"Doesn't exactly get you clean does it?" she pointed out logically. "Though I do remember hearing of a cult that used to bathe in blood ritually. Carmilliites."

"Human blood?"

"Naturally."

"Of course." Stupid question really. "So, that book, any good."

"I haven't had a chance to read it yet. I spent most of the day working on this and listening to you grunt and curse while you worked."

"You heard that?" Oops.

"A vampire's senses are much keener than a human. If I concentrate, I could hear a conversation a mile away like I was standing right there."

"Eavesdropper," he said, making her chuckle. "Was it worth it you think, after everything you went through."

"I suspect so," she said. "I know so little necromancy. My master was many things, but a powerful necromancer was not one of them. Wasn't much of a teacher either."

"I just mean, staked to the ground. And then what that one guy almost did to you."

"Almost? Oh him. That wasn't almost, just almost that night."

It took Harry a moment to comprehend what he was being told. The horrible, disgusting truth of the matter. "You're saying he…" the word wouldn't even leave his mouth.

"Several times," she said flippantly. "What of it."

Harry was near speechless. How could someone be so cavalier about – THAT. "It doesn't bother you?"

"If I were that fragile, I'd never get anything done." Seeing his horrified look, she sighed. "My master was many things. Not least among them, an unrepentant pervert. That fool stuffing his prick up my butt is the least of the things that have been done to me. If there weren't tentacles involved its hardly worth thinking about."

Far from feeling reassured he was only more horrified. "Why did you—I mean how did you—that is…"

His brain was having difficulty forming whole sentences. She tried not to laugh but it was a clearly a strain. "How did I become a vampire?"

"Yes! That." Anything to change the subject.

"I was turned, same as most. I was eleven, a skinny little scarecrow of a child, out by myself well after I should have been. He was a relatively young vampire, only fifty years dead and recently emancipated by the death of his own master.

"He drained me nearly dry. Then, rather than waste a corpse, he turned me. He had no servants of his own then and I was as good as anything else. He turned me, then we went to my house and ate my family, then the rest of the village."

"Geez!"

"It's not that impressive. It wasn't a big village, but it was a start. I spent the next two hundred years following him around. Then the world ended, and I came here."

"What happened to him?" he was almost afraid to ask.

"Tragically, he was unable to make the trip."

"Tragically?" His eyebrows were not as loud as Minerva McGonagall's, but they adequately expressed his disbelief.

"Very tragic," she said, "I made sure."

Her wicked little smile was returned with his own. "Very traaaaaa—aagic," he yawned.

"Sleepy time?" she chuckled.

"My vital energy is dangerously low," and he punctuated with another yawn.

"I suppose there's no point in eating you then."

"That's right," he declared, consciousness flagging quickly. "Outsmarted you I have, hahaha."

He didn't see her smile at him, eyes too heavy to stay open. He didn't feel her hand gently brush his hair, or her lips softly touch. He certainly didn't hear her whisper, "Goodnight sweet prince," before opening her book and losing herself in the text.

None of these things he knew as deep sleep stole swiftly over him, and in turn, a strange phenomenon, that of the dream. Not that it was strange for Harry to dream, he did so often. What was strange was that the dream was not of the usual variety, the kind that woke him, screaming.

This was the sort he quickly forgot come morning; vague and indistinct. Yet at the same time, in the moment, it was the sort he never wished to wake from. Hands and lips, stroke and caress, burning brand and fevered touch and everything in rolling waves of crimson plush.

Wakefulness came hesitantly, as though it too wished to bath in red velvet. Alas, twas not to be, mores the pity. A speckled haze met his fluttering eyes; a moments concentration and the world came into focus.

The chirping of the birds and lack of anything gnawing on him allowed a feeling of tranquility to steal over him. A welcome change from the past two days, and with no task needing done, he was content to bask for a time.

Eventually someone else decided he should get up, and he was pleased to see her all the same. "Didn't see you much yesterday."

Not that he worried about the fairy, she often went off by herself to later return. She obviously had some way to find him, so he didn't worry. Though the little blue wisp buzzing around in the aura of her glow was new.

"What's this then?" he asked stupidly, knowing full well he would not understand her. He didn't.

Whatever it was she seemed pleased about it, which was good enough for him. Levering himself vertical he scanned the clearing. Miraculously there were no surprises. Things were still all tore up, but in a familiar way. The wagon, with vampire beneath, was right where it should be and the wolf was lying next to it looking at him, perfect.

Perfect?

He was forced to rewind a little before he realized where the dissonance was coming from. By then the wolf had grown board of him and lay his head down.

"Where did that come from?" It hadn't been there last night, had it?

The fairy tinkled something at him, which made as much sense as anything else she ever said to him. Incautiously he strode toward the wagon. The wolf saw him coming and fangs bared with a meaningful growl. Rising to its feet it stared, daring him to take another step.

Harry was exactly the sort to take such a dare, but in this instance he paused. He didn't know where it had come from, what it was doing, or why it was doing it.

There were any number of ways he could have resolved the situation. A stunner or sleeping spell would have done the trick. His strength, enhanced, had allowed him to punch dragons, what chance did one wolf have. Even just calling out to Rosebud was a viable option.

Naturally, Harry chose none of these. The wolf had challenged him. This could not stand, but he didn't want to hurt it till he knew why it was there.

Its growling abruptly stopped when Harry vanished. It whimpered in confusion at the tiny thing standing in his place. The large squirrel marched up to him on its hind paws till they were face to face. Being just a wolf of no particular uniqueness, it did what it normally did when a squirrel got that close to its mouth.

This was a terrible mistake. Tiny paws clasped, top and bottom, slamming his mouth shut. If that weren't enough, it then forced the canine down to the ground so its own head was above, and its large expressive eyes could glare down.

Much was stated unequivocally through that expressive glare; most of it unfit for young readers and women who are nursing. The gist of it though was quite simple; don't cross me; no 'or else' necessary.

The message came through loud and clear without a single word being said. He lay perfectly still, even when the squirrel became a man again and knocked on the wagon gate like a door.

Receiving no response, he did it again, harder. There was a grumble, something stirring, "What!" came grumpily from under the wagon.

"Were you sleeping?"

"Yes."

"You sleep?"

"Sometimes. Was that all?"

It was not. "Did you know there's a wolf out here?"

"Yes."

Okay. "Why is there a wolf out here?"

"He wandered into camp last night. You didn't bury the viscera deep enough. He was trying to dig it up."

"It was underground, how could he smell it?"

"Most canines have excellent noses, wolves especially. Even underground things can still give off a smell. That's why corpses are buried so deep. Six feet under. You've heard that before, yes?"

"Yeah." Just never knew why. "Why is he still here."

"I decided to keep him."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Harry groaned into his palm, making the wolf whimper. "Don't wolves usually come in packs."

"I think he was kicked out of his pack," she said. "There's no other wolves for miles and he looks like he's been in a fight."

He certainly did. Several long gashes across his muzzle and one across his eye stood out starkly against his black fur.

"You really want to keep him?"

"His names Blacky. Or Shadow. Which do you think is better?"

Neither, they're both silly and boring. "Why is he just sitting out here? Are you controlling him?"

"Kind of. Vampires have a natural rapport with certain animals. Wolves, bats, vermin. I just used that; he was more than happy to join my pack."

"Your pack?"

"You know, you, me, the fairy."

"So, we're a pack now? They why did he growl at me?"

"Challenge for dominance. You didn't hurt him, did you?"

He looked at the wolf who stared back pitifully. "No," he sighed, reaching out a hand and gently stroking the canines head; an understandable signal that all is well, all is forgiven.

At least that's what he got out of it if his tail was any indication. "Since your up, can we talk about what we do next."

"You have somewhere you're going?"

"Not really. You?"

"No place in particular, but we shouldn't stay here much longer. I killed twenty others when they first captured me, and their horses ran off the night you freed me. It's possible someone might come looking."

"So, how's that gonna work? We just travel by night?" He wasn't overly fond of the idea.

"No, so long as I'm covered, I'll be fine. Only direct exposure to the sun hurts me."

"I don't suppose they had any spare cloaks?"

"I left them where I was sitting last night. I also resized a full outfit for you. I didn't want to say so earlier but what you are wearing now is the most bizarre thing I have ever seen. That is bound to draw attention."

"I'll take your word for it." It was easier than arguing fashion.

"Let me sleep a while longer," she yawned, "and then we'll get going."

Going, he thought as his companion loudly flopped back into her bed. But where?

...

Announcement

...

Just real quick.

We're doing a NaNoWriMo in May. One new chapter ever day for thirty one days. Come check it out starting Friday. Book of Shadows. Be there, or don't, I don't really care... yes I do.


	18. Chapter 17

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 17 – Off the beaten path

…

Tink, tink, tink.

"Hmm."

Tink, tink, tink.

"Yes, I see."

Tink, tink, twang!

"Oh! That hurt."

Dumbledore cringed under the discordant twang of the pickaxe; one of several he had working at his new project, now one less as he examined the broken tip.

"Interesting," he mumbled, drawing up closer to examine the point of impact that had done the job.

"Good morning headmaster," someone called in passing.

He waved a good morning, withholding a verbal one due to a lack of name. It came to him after the young man was out of earshot, "Thomas, that was it."

He'd been relearning a great many names of late. Being out in the open air had done him a world of good but it had also brought to light, at least to him, just how disconnected he'd been from the student body. If he weren't so busy, he may have found time to feel ashamed.

As it was, he simply allowed people to introduce themselves again as they felt necessary, most were more than happy to. Not many expected him to remember them; that expectation was purely his own and one he damn well intended to live up to.

There was much to be said about being Albus Dumbledore; strangely enough, most of it was said by people who were not Albus Dumbledore. He found it funny at times the things people assumed about him; books for Christmas when all he wanted was socks being just one example.

The sad part was, at some point, he'd started believing bits of it himself.

"Good morning headmaster."

The greeting lacked something in the way of tone, but that was to be expected from this one. Ronald Weasley had not been in the best way for some time now.

"Truly a lovely morning, don't you think?" the headmaster offered.

"Spose," was the lackluster response.

There was much the venerable wizard could have said, in fact wished to say, would have said, and did say about a month ago. Now he held his peace; what could be said had, all that remained now was action.

"It's quite the conundrum this, wouldn't you say?"

"Spose so."

"The hardness doesn't appear to be uniform either, you see."

The young ginger looked disinterested at the broken pickaxe. It worried Dumbledore. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who needed a project.

"How have you been Mr. Weasley?"

"Fine."

A faint growl of frustration was mercilessly silenced. The boy had gone to the trouble of approaching him yet all he gave were single word answers.

He was lost, that was the problem. Didn't know what he wanted or what to do with himself, so he just moped. If only it was just him.

Ms. Granger thankfully appeared to be stabilizing; this he attributed largely to Neville Longbottom. Others were more subtle, but he had noticed a distinct change in several, Anna DeWinter for example, the young adventurer's Jones and Croft.

Everyone was handling his departure in their own way, though none as poorly as Ron Weasley now that he, Dumbledore, was no longer hiding in his office.

"Good morning headmaster."

"And a very good morning to you Ms. Bones."

The cheerful Hufflepuff carried a large basket which, if history was any indicator, contained his lunch.

"I know it's a bit early, but we're a little short handed today. I put a stasis charm on everything," she explained.

"That will be fine, thank you."

"Well good," she said. "Ronald, you don't look busy, come with me."

"Huh, wha—I hey!"

The old man snickered quietly as the cheerful young lady dragged the dour young man off.

"Very good Ms. Bones, very good."

There was little he could do for Ron Weasley, but he wasn't the only person with a vested interest.

Turning his attention back to his broken pickaxe, he was distracted by an odd beam of light, drawing his attention to the horizon where long, dark clouds loomed.

"That looks a bit ominous."

"Eadmaster!"

"Ah, Hagrid." The big man stalked up, casting his own look at the horizon, "What do you suppose?"

"Late afternoon I reckon, maybe early evenin."

Dumbledore nodded. "Rain perhaps. Difficult to tell from here."

"You want I should bring'em in."

"I don't think that's necessary just yet. We'll keep an eye on it. When it gets closer, we can make a decision. No sense in losing time for being overcautious."

"Little rain never urt anyone."

This was not entirely accurate, though the half-giant could hardly be blamed for his ignorance.

A little rain had hurt more than a few who were sensitive to such things, like vampires. Though not as painful as fire, and less un-life threatening than falling into a river, rain, particularly heavy rain, could be quite uncomfortable for those sometimes-called Nosferatu.

"You alright back there?"

"I've been better."

The wagon they were using had no cover, being of the open variety, and as one of the open variety it proved no protection whatever from the elements. For Harry this was little concern. The rain wasn't heavy, more a thick misting than anything else. He could handle being wet, and his new outfit possessed a certain water resistance, the cloak anyway. Rosebud on the other hand.

"Bet your glad I made you that umbrella now."

"I was glad when you gave it to me."

It wasn't fancy, just some sticks and one of the leftover cloaks he'd fashioned into a simple carriable rain shield, also good for keeping off unwanted sunbeams which had been the initial thought.

"And how's our puppy enjoying the ride?"

The rough looking wolf looked up for a moment before laying his head back in Rosebud's lap, "He says your horses need work."

Harry snickered, "Oh does he now?"

"Yes, he does."

"So that's not just you being critical of my transfiguration."

"Not 'just'."

He couldn't argue the point on logic; this was why he resorted to sarcasm.

She was right though; they weren't very good. Part of transfiguration, the most important part in fact, was the ability to visualize what you were doing. Harry, growing up as he did, had never seen a real horse in his life. Pictures in books, a statue or two, but never the thing in the flesh and that showed in the beasts pulling the wagon.

They weren't awful—he thought. They were horse shaped, they looked alive—from a distance. The devil, as they say, was in the details, and that's where they fell apart. The most obvious problem was their coats, dull and gray as the rock he made them from. The heads also weren't quite right, and the eyes didn't move, which is why he'd added blinders so they couldn't be seen.

Even the reigns he pulled on were merely there for show. The transfigured beasts weren't real enough to respond to them and were being actively controlled by his magic.

"We should get real horses as soon as we can," the vampire commented.

"Have you got money?"

"I never said we should buy them."

He let out a heavy sigh at the suggestion, "I'm not comfortable stealing—if I don't have to. Besides, real horses need to be fed and watered and led by someone who knows how to use these things."

"My but you do complain a lot."

"I don't wanna hear that from 'you'," he retorted.

She pretended he hadn't spoken. "Doesn't much matter I suppose. There's not likely to be any good horses around here. We're on the outskirts of what passes for civilization. That village probably doesn't even have a half dozen dogs, never mind a horse."

… What?

"What village?" he said, pulling their wagon to a stop.

"The one I've been smelling for about twenty minutes now," she said casually. "Doesn't seem like it'll be on the road, probably a path up here somewhere."

"And you didn't tell me about this sooner because?"

"Didn't think I needed to," she said all full of faux innocence which easily repelled his chastising stare.

"We need to have a talk about communication," he said, spurring the horses back into motion, "In the meantime, what can you tell me about this village."

"Not much," she said. "There's a smithy of some sort. They do fishing as well, their smoking them. Hide tanning, you never forget that smell. If I were to guess, probably a few dozen people, fifty tops. You're going?"

"Well, yeah, why not?"

"Quite the optimist, or is it just ignorance I wonder?"

Harry scowled, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Small villages in the middle of nowhere don't get a lot of visitors. You may find the reception to be less than you expect, or more, if you catch my drift."

He thought he did, but, "You think they might attack me?"

"Possibly. More likely they'll just stare a lot, hustle the children indoors, that sort of thing."

"Like I was some sort of delinquent," sounded familiar.

"You're still going."

He nodded, "It may be stupid," and he could admit it probably was, "but I've got to see for myself."

It was more than just idle curiosity. Rosebud had told him of things, people, magic, that was totally different than what he knew. It wasn't likely these people would be powerful wizards, but they also weren't from Hogwarts. He might learn a great deal if he paid attention.

Not a quarter mile up, the well-worn dirt path appeared, and Harry stopped the wagon.

"You coming?"

"In a manner of speaking," she said, hopping down, followed by the wolf. "I see no reason to take the chance of them finding out what I am. I'll stick to the woods. Try not to get into too much trouble."

"What's 'too much'?" he wondered sarcastically.

She didn't bother to answer as he reverted the horses to a pair of stones and shrunk the wagon to the size of a toy. Leaving the wagon and his bag with the vampire, he strolled down the old dirt road at a casual pace.

Unlike the little vampire, his senses were only that of a human, slightly better with enhancement, and he didn't want to accidentally run into someone and make a bad first impression.

That's why someone ran into him.

The bushes shook and the man came bolting out of the underbrush in a panic, barreling blindly into Harry and sending them both sprawling to the ground.

"What the bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, shoving the man off. "Why don't you watch where you're going."

But the man didn't answer, and a moment later Harry saw why when the bear came charging out the brush as well.

He hadn't even time to curse, flinging himself at the stranger who froze in panic. The bear charged through empty space and Harry landed with his passenger some ten feet out of harms way.

He didn't stop to see if the man was alright as the bear had already spotted them, having smashed through several small trees before coming to a halt. It didn't charge again, given its size it would have taken some time to get back up to speed, but approached at a walk, roaring fiercely.

The man wailed like a dying old woman, proving he was, for the moment at least, still alive. Harry paid him no mind, entirely focused on the bear, and boy was there a lot to focus on.

It wasn't quite as large as the Caladonian boar, but it was a very near thing, making him wonder how it would handle magic. Its coat was thick and coarse, blackish brown all the way to its snout which was a pale cream color.

It approached without fear, as you'd expect of a creature that size. His mind raced through possibilities, ways to combat such a thing, when the realization he needn't kill the beast struck him. It hadn't been an option with the boars, but the bear might be less inclined to pursue his case if Harry could convince him it was more trouble than it was worth.

He went to work, slamming his hand into the ground and pulling out a crude sort of whip of gravel and stone he used to lash the ground with a deafening crack.

The bear staggered back in surprise, roaring in defiance, but Harry saw through him. He cracked his whip again and again the bear jumped. He repeated this several times, but he could see it would take more as the bear jumped less every time and looked like he might try charging again.

A quick look around revealed everything to be dripping wet, so he felt relatively safe in his course of action, extending his hand and shooting a long gout of flame.

That proved a sufficient bluff; the bear stumbled back and fled into the woods the way it had come.

"Well, that wasn't so hard," not by his usual standard anyway.

That just left the man, who seemed to be more shocked by what he'd just seen than the bear.

"You alright?"

"Whabudagneguabududududunnnnnnnuaaaa…" he gibbered incoherently.

"I think I'll take that as a no." There was enough n's.

"Nu—nununu, nununuNU!" he attempted again. Failing that, he did the only other thing his brain would allow and passed out.

"Hmm. Well at least he stopped screaming."

Giving the man a minute to rest he tried the good old slap them awake, and when that failed, he flipped the man over, conjured a bit of ice cold water, and dumped it down the back of his neck.

"YEEEEEEEE!"

That worked.

"Back with us now?"

"BA—ba, you, you—you!"

"Whole words, that's good. Would you like to try an entire sentence now?"

His sarcasm appeared to have gotten through because the man stopped gibbering and gave him a hard look as he tried to catch his breath.

"You're—some sort of wizard?"

"Yes, some sort," he admitted. "My name's Harry," he said, leaving the statement hanging for the other man to introduce himself.

He didn't, "You—you, I…"

"Are you alright?" Harry asked when the man looked like he might start gibbering again. "Just you out here or did you have friends?"

"Friends?" the word seemed to spark something, then the switch was flipped, "No, no, they, I mean, they're…"

His use of the past tense told Harry all he needed to know, "Didn't manage to outrun him?" he assumed.

But he was wrong, "No, no it wasn't the bear. They were, I mean, they jus…" then he stopped, looked at Harry like he'd just seen him for the first time, "but you're a wizard."

"Uh, yeah."

"You! You could stop them."

"Stop what?"

But the man didn't seem to have heard him, "We should speak to Karl, he's the village headman. Come, quickly."

Bemused but tragically curious, he followed the man who took off at a fast walk. The village wasn't far, only ten minutes before they saw smoke from the stacks, and then the stacks themselves.

Hogsmeade, he remembered, was also called a village. Hogsmeade was a bustling metropolis compared to what he walked into. A dozen buildings stood randomly spaced, only a couple looking as though they'd been actually constructed as opposed to just thrown together.

One such building was the smithy; even poor naïve Harry could smell it; the mass of melted slag outside the door was also a hint. His new friend made a beeline for the other, telling him to wait outside as he knocked and was given permission to enter.

Awkward did not even begin to describe his situation.

Rosebud had been right, they did stare, gawk one might even say. He'd been gawked at before of course; boy who lived and all that, but this was different. There wasn't that sense of pointless reverence, awe, and wonder.

Harry may not have been a vampire, but he knew fear, even if he couldn't smell it, and there was fear; fear mingled with that irresistible curiosity one can't help but feel in the presence of things like scorpions or tarantula. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but wonder if you could get away with touching it. Just a little.

He was saved from a good stick poking when his new friend returned, followed by a very large man that made Harry blanch. At first glance he thought his uncle had somehow followed him, a second glance revealed this was not the case. The size was right, the general corpulence, but the face was wrong, it sagged too much, and the hair was dark rather than blonde and he had no mustache.

"This is him then?"

"Yes sir, this is the wizard."

There was a sense of unease when the man addressed him as such, like it was important in a way he didn't understand.

"Can't tell you how grateful we are you've come sir," said the large man. "Bout at our wits end I don't mind tellin ya. We would greatly appreciate your help."

"Help with what?" he asked foolishly.

"These 'sprites'," he said like it was a dirty word. "This makes seven they've taken. Soon there won't be none of us left. Please sir, won't you help us. Just name your price."

"I'll do what I can," he said, though he didn't know why.

All the warning bells were going off; 'WRONG' they clanged, 'WRONG'. It was a testament to his character that he was still, after everything he'd been through, so quick to offer assistance to strangers. Some would have called it noble; others would have called it stupid.

Whichever it was, he couldn't help that niggling suspicious he would regret it before everything was said and done. Funny how that niggling is so often right.


	19. Chapter 18

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 18 – Bad spirits, bad faith

…

The forest was thick and wet with rain though the heavy mist had at last died away. The little vampire grumbled none too quietly as they trudged through the dripping undergrowth.

"I just cannot understand you."

"Yeah?"

"You don't even know these people."

"Uh huh."

"…so why are you helping them?"

He gave no reply to that, not even a grunt. There were things he could have said, valiant lines of noble intent, cynical words of self-centeredness, yet none of them seemed to fit. When you got right down to it, he didn't know why. The words had just come out, and that was the crux of it.

"I gave them my word," and a man was nothing if not as good as his word.

"But why?" was the question, the one he could not answer.

"It doesn't matter. I'm doing it."

"I did tell you how I handle water."

"I'm not expecting you to go for a swim."

The sprites that had been referenced were water sprites. They'd recently invaded the nearby river and started drowning people. No reason had been given as to why, though some implication had been made that this was just their nature. His ignorance once again was putting him in unnecessary danger.

"What can you tell me about sprites?"

"They're elemental creatures," she said sourly, "almost pure magic. Like the fairy but based in a terrestrial element rather than just magic itself."

Too bad 'she' wasn't around to ask… not that it would have made much difference.

"Is it normal for them to act like this, drowning people I mean?"

"Couldn't say, never met one."

Of course not, that would be helpful.

"Any idea how to stop them."

"I'd worry more about finding them, before they find you."

The river proved easy enough to find, and even without a sprite in sight it gave him a shock. It wasn't large, maybe ten feet across and five feet deep at the lowest point, but the color, "Water is not supposed to look like that." Mud gray mixed with rust.

"Some sort of runoff," said Rosebud.

The wolf whimpered on inspecting the filthy water, shaking his head in disgust. Smart animal.

"You think this might have something to do with these attacks?"

"Maybe. If they're living in this, they'd be incorporating it as well. I can just imagine how they'd feel about that."

"Then your imagination's better than mine."

A thought struck him, a hard punch from the left. It would explain a few things. His look of disgust hardened into a scowl. Rosebud seemed to notice but he waved it off. There wasn't enough evidence. He couldn't be sure. Deal with the immediate problem.

"Let's head upriver. See what we can find."

Having passed many rivers in his recent travels he was surprised at how different this one was. Normally there was vegetation of some sort all along the banks; here there was nothing.

"This runoff isn't recent," he observed. "It would have taken some time for the local flora to look like this."

He may not have been a horticulturalist, but he'd spent enough time tending Aunt Petunia's garden to know how such things worked. A month, bare minimum. The sort of plants that would border a river were hardy things, not easily dissuaded.

"I'd be quite curious to see where this is all coming from," said Rosebud, without actually sounding all that curious.

But curious it was. Not far up the river they found what remained of an old water wheel, smashed to pieces and discarded on the shore. A few minutes later they found the mill it had come from, quiet, abandoned.

"Seems like drowning people isn't all they've been up to," the vampire remarked, keeping a healthy distance and holding her umbrella protectively.

There were bits of debris near the mill as well, and, upon further inspection, evidence of drowning.

"How long has he been there," Harry asked, fighting his stomachs natural inclination to empty.

"Hard to say," said Rosebud, poking the bloated corpse with the tip of her umbrella. "Days at least. Probably not much longer. The bodies in too good a shape for it to be longer… can you pull it out of the water please."

Unable to properly concentrate, and unwilling to go near the thing, he drew his wand and levitated it out of the water and up the beach. It dribbled and squelched sickeningly.

"Hmm, let's see. Male… about thirtyish I'd say. No other marks, lacerations, bruises."

"So, he drowned?"

"That would be my prognosis."

"Which means those sprites are probably nearby."

The vampire shrugged and continued poking and prodding the bloated corpse. Unable to stomach watching, Harry cautiously approached the river.

It was no cleaner here, in fact, the water appeared even thicker, like chunky soup.

"Disgusting," as if he didn't have enough things turning his stomach.

Squatting down to examine the water he noticed odd ripples on the far shore. A wake began to move across the river surface; something was coming towards him. It baffled him that anything could be alive in this water, and the wake wasn't large. Whatever it was seemed an unlikely threat.

He stood and readied his wand anyway.

The wake reached his side of the river and began moving in circles. It was impossible to see beneath the surface to whatever was creating it, curiosity got the better of him. He drew closer, leaning over, ready to withdraw.

The hand leapt out before he could, dragging him into the filthy river.

He broke the surface gasping for air, looking around frantic for the thing that attacked him. He felt rather than saw when it tried again to drag him under, and then there were others. He wasn't sure how he knew, but the effort to pull him beneath the water lacked coordination, it came from every direction and moved in every direction.

He struggled against them, but they seemed to be without limit, whenever he shook one off two more would latch on. By the time he thought to scream for help it was too late, his head was below the water and they were all piling on.

He felt the wand in his hand and desperately sought for something to do with it, but he couldn't think. His mind went foggy, then dark.

He woke feeling heavy, and wet.

He heaved upward, expelling water as he gasped for air.

"I hope you learned your lesson."

The chastising voice of the vampire was like the bells of angels in his ears.

"Thank—you," he coughed through gasps of air.

"It would seem we have found what we were looking for."

"Have we?"

It took a moment to see straight again. The first thing he saw was a smirking little vampire. The second was bigger, bloated, and standing upright.

"What the…"

"Not bad, yes?" she said, clearly proud of her creation.

"That was, I mean, he was…" it was hard getting his thoughts in order, whether it was the near-death experience or the zombie standing in front of him to blame who could say.

"We're lucky we found him. I had him drag you out of the river when those sprites tried to drown you."

"Sprites!" Adjusting his view to the filthy river, he saw what may have been mistaken for people coasting across the river. "Those are the water sprites?"

They were roughly female human in shape and composed entirely of the filthy river water. They floated across the surface half formed as though they were partially submerged, circling, watching.

"They don't look happy."

"You should've seen them when he was dragging you out. They tried to follow him up the beach."

"They can do that?"

She shook her head, "They appear to be bound to the water, with some control over it. They pushed the river over this direction till it was clear they wouldn't be able to catch him. Now they're just circling."

"But why?"

It was the most relevant question. Why were they doing it, any of it? Was it just their nature?

"So, are we ready to give up, now that we've been nearly drown once?"

No longer hacking and coughing, Harry gave the little vampire a grin, "Give up, how do you do that?"

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," she replied with an overdramatic sigh. "I hope you have some kind of idea. I count at least twenty of them, though it is hard to tell."

"I think I might actually," he said, adopting a thoughtful expression. "Just need a couple things from my bag."

He felt their stare when he approached the river. They circled faster, tossing up filthy spray.

"I see you," he said more to himself than the angry sprites.

The bottle in his hand felt heavy, it weighed his reluctance. His plan was solid, but it was difficult to be confident. He had just been nearly killed, if not for Rosebud, and for such a stupid reason. Clearly his encounter with the dragon had left him with unrealistic ideas on his own mortality. Not anymore.

"Well, here I am. Come get me!"

He was still several feet from the water but close enough to feel the spray they were throwing up. Circling and watching they made no apparent move to attack, just circled faster and faster.

"Well, come on. I thought you wanted me. Do I have to get in there with you?"

He didn't know if they understood him so he just assumed they could. It made him feel less like he was just yelling to build up his own confidence.

Faster and faster they circled, paying him no apparent heed but for the eyes he could still feel. It struck him nearly too late, exactly what they were doing.

The swirling waterspout rose from the river like an angry serpent, spinning like a tornado. It shot up, arcing high into the air before descending on him like a big wet drill.

He almost flinched. Feet shifting beneath him dug into the soft ground and a single hand flew up to defend.

It connected with force; buckling under the weight he held fast under the enormous pressure. He couldn't see what was happening, only the fact it wasn't punching through him evidenced it was working.

His plan was working.

The thought filled him with confidence and he pushed back against the weight, standing back to his full height as the attack finished and the water spout broke off the river, the last of it swiftly drawing through the filter bulb and into the old enchanted sherry bottle.

He heard the slow clap as he opened the bulb to dump out the filtered filth.

"Very good, eight points."

"Just eight?"

"You lose two for not doing that from the start and nearly getting killed."

He hung his head, "Yeah… yeah," it was hard to argue with her reasoning.

"So, what did you do, exactly? Are they all in that bottle?"

"Yep," he said, corking the bottle, "and they can stay there for now."

He didn't know what the purifier might have done with them, but so long as they were in the bottle, they couldn't hurt anyone.

"I suppose you'll go back and tell everyone what you did then?"

He didn't miss the hint of derision in her tone; it reminded him of something else. "Not yet."

"Not yet?"

He shook his head, "One other thing I need to do first."

Once that was done, he returned to the village. Everyone paused in their work when they saw him coming. Someone ran ahead to inform the headman he'd returned so the big man met him at the door while the rest of the village walked.

"You're back?" he didn't seem surprised.

"Your sprites have been dealt with. They won't be a problem anymore."

A murmur ran through the crowd and the headman smiled a toothy smile. "Well, that is good news. Never doubted you for a second my good wizard."

Jovially he slung his arm around Harry's shoulder, bending Harry under his weight. "You know, I had a feeling when I first saw you. Glad to see I was right."

"Yeah, well," Harry hedged uncomfortably. "Just glad I could help."

The headman laughed at his humility, "I do believe I promised you a reward. Why don't we just head inside now and take care of that."

Taking his heavy arm off Harry's shoulder he gently pushed the young wizard toward the door. Said wizard hadn't taken but two steps when the wrongness hit him like a flying cod. He turned just in time for the knife to slash open his side.

"Gah!"

He stumbled back as the big man lunged with surprising speed. A wall halted Harry's retreat and the big man threw all his weight behind the knife. It pushed through the wall all the way to the hilt and he struggled to free it when he realized the wizard wasn't on it.

"There he is," shouted one of the villagers as Harry reappeared from his short apparition.

A pitchfork was thrust in his face, forcing him to duck and roll. Several rocks were thrown in support of the pitchfork and yet another was brought out to harass him as the headman finally recovered his knife and came at Harry again.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry demanded. "I helped you."

"Aye, that you did," the big man said, "And we do appreciate that. But you're a wizard see, can't trust wizards."

The words stung, even more than the pain in his side which slowed his movement when they came at him again.

"Please," he begged, "don't do this."

"Filthy wizard," someone shouted.

"Heathen magic user," cried someone else.

"There's no use begging," said the headman, circling like a hunting cat. "Only one thing to be done with abominations, and that's what all wizards are."

The accusation froze him in his tracks. His panic melted away and the look of fear became a stony scowl. "You know what else wizards are?"

A brilliant flash split the sky and the roof of the headman's house exploded into flame.

"Not to be trifled with."

The villagers screamed, cowering away from the wizard whose green eyes flashed with menace in the light of the storm.

The headman stared, the knife quivering in his hand. "You—you don't scare me!"

The shake of the blade and ball squeezing shrillness of his tone suggested otherwise.

"Are you afraid of your house burning down?" Harry asked.

A moments confusion was followed by someone screaming again. People scurried and scampered as the flames spread from the roof down the sides of the building. Buckets were called for but by the time a proper line could be formed from the well to the fire, the building was fully engulfed.

Harry stood at the edge of the village watching them fail to beat back the blaze. He stared grimly when the fire jumped to the next nearest building and began devouring the straw roof like a starving goat from hell.

He turned his back as the screams grew louder, walking away into the spreading darkness to the rumble of thunder overhead.

"You know I hate to say I told you so."

"Then don't."

The little vampire sighed. "Still, that lightning bolt was quite impressive."

"I didn't do that."

The lightning had been pure coincidence, he'd simply used it to his advantage.

"I guess mother nature likes you today."

The rising wind carrying the scent of rain cast some doubts on that. "We need to find somewhere to make camp. As far from this place as we can get."

"I suppose you wouldn't go back to that mining camp. It is empty after all."

Yes, it was. The sprites had been thorough in killing those that had polluted their river. The bloated corpse that had dragged him to safety was but one of several. The others had all washed up on shore well before reaching the mill.

Given the condition of the river and the freshness of the corpses Harry had surmised they hadn't been dead long, and Rosebud agreed.

"I'd rather not risk it," was a poor excuse but he was in no mood to do better.

"Yes, I suppose not." She wasn't buying it, but she wasn't willing to argue. "Well, on we go then. There's still a few hours before night properly sets in. With any luck we can find something before then, or if worse comes to worse, we can hide under the wagon… you can unshrink it, right?"

A sort of grin peeked through his troubled scowl, "Probably," he said to the fretting little vampire.


	20. Chapter 19

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 19 – The longest night

…

"Is that everyone Hagrid?"

The half-giant gave a final survey of the surroundings, "Aye Professor, that's all of'em."

Rolling overhead, the thunder rumbled threateningly.

"Close the doors."

With the might of ten normal men, Hagrid heaved the great doors of Hogwarts closed.

"Settin up ta be quite a storm," he said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Pomona should be pleased. A thorough watering for her fields."

"Juss so long as that wind don't blow'em away firs."

The wizened wizard chuckled, "Well, let us hope for the best," he said with relentless optimism.

It was easy to be optimistic when you had a good solid roof over your head.

Harry found himself lacking in both regards as night closed in and the storm rolled on above them.

"My but it is a blustery evening."

Rosebud, much to his surprise, was in high spirits, despite her aversion to wetness and the constant threat that any moment now they all would be. The wolf certainly wasn't sharing in her stoicism, hiding himself as best he could and whimpering as the wind howled high above.

If only the wind were his only concern. He'd felt his unnamed beast skulking about the back of his subconscious ever since they left the village. He knew it was his own fault for being so naïve, but it was impossible not to be stung by the sudden betrayal.

A three-hour trek through the forest hadn't helped his frame of mind and the 'campsite' they eventually settle on hadn't made things any better.

Something was off. It wasn't anything he could see, just a simple clearing with a bit of a fallen tree and a few rocks on a patch of dead earth. He thought of it as dead earth because nothing was growing on it, unless you counted the rocks.

"Wish we could have found a better place to camp," he thought aloud as he lit their campfire with magical flame, the only kind not likely to go out.

"I rather like it," Rosebud countered, failing to give further detail, why she liked it for example.

It wasn't strictly unfair, since Harry couldn't explain why he didn't like it, he just did. It wasn't something conscious, it went deeper than that, an instinct perhaps, something primal, a throwback to his cave man self.

Now if only Og could learn people speak he might figure out what was bothering him.

"I hope the fairy can find us," he said, staring into the darkness.

"You really should give her a name," said Rosebud, turning the page in her book, unconcerned. "Anyway, she'll be here shortly."

"How do you know."

"My night vision is much better than yours and I saw a tiny glowing ball coming our direction just before I opened this up, thataway," she said, pointing into the inky blackness.

He peered into the murk, waving shadows and thick, deep darkness. He saw nothing. It didn't seem impossible she could be having him on, he was certainly in a mood to believe she would.

He stared into the darkness, daring it to stare back, and by and by he perceived a speck, a glimmer, the tiniest hint of a light in the endless landscape of howling shade.

It bobbed and weaved, growing bigger, stronger as the moments passed. It moved slow, and small wonder, it was fighting the wind who had come in legion, the approach could be nothing but slow.

Standing in defiance of the wind he waited, and after a time she arrived, and she was not alone.

"Someone's been making friends."

The fairy tinkled quietly in his ear, leaning against him as he gently held her. She was exhausted. Her new friend appeared only just less worse for the wear, its feathers ruffled as it tried to hide from the wind in its own down.

It was a barn owl, though not a big one. Its dark eyes stood out like black jewels set in its pale white face. He'd no idea why it was there, sitting on his shoulder. It clearly thought it should be there and so did the fairy who spoke to it in her tinkling voice.

The owl made a series of short screeches, eyeing up her perch before shuffling closer to his head. The way she snuggled up to him was oddly endearing.

"Spose I'll need to find a name for you as well then," he mused aloud.

The owl screeched then hid her head beneath her wing.

Harry chuckled, "Crazy bird," he thought aloud, "I wonder where you came from?"

"Yes, indeed, where did you come from," Dumbledore mused.

He'd just left the library and was heading back to his office when he discovered it, the bird. It was a vibrant blue, reminiscent of a parrot in shape but with long strings of trailing tail feathers with peacock eyes all along them. He'd never seen it's like.

"I suppose I shouldn't wonder why you're in here," the old man thought aloud, paying little mind to the rolling thunder outside.

The bird looked at him when he spoke. It sent a chill running down his spine. It's eyes were like spheres of pure gold, and yet, there was intelligence in them, he could tell; more intelligence than any bird ought to have.

"I wonder, can you understand me?" the wizard queried.

It gave no reply.

"Hmm, perhaps not," but then again, he thought, if it could understand, would it want him to know?

Growing tired of his company the bird took to wing, vanishing down the hall. Dumbledore hesitated a moment before running after it. It wasn't an activity he was well suited for and he found himself winded quickly, but still he ran.

There was something about the bird that upset him, set all his warning bells to clanging. Perhaps he was being paranoid, perhaps not paranoid enough. He'd no way to know for certain and his instincts were screaming danger. His instincts had often been right in the past when logic and reason confounded; he listened now and ran.

It did him little good. The bird was well ahead and vanished from sight at the first turn. Dumbledore came around the corner to find only an empty hall that echoed his wheezing breaths.

"Damn!" he cursed when he was sure he was alone.

Now he knew he was right. Normal birds did not just disappear like cheap magician.

He panted and wheezed till he found his second wind then drew his wand and proceeded down the hall.

"Not right," he mumbled to himself, "Just not right."

Grim determination shadowed his every step. He'd find the damn bird if it took him all night.

"Not right, just not right."

In the inky blackness barely lit by his bluebell campfire Harry was on a similar track. The wrongness that pervaded the place had not lifted, even though the wind had; rising up high to howl threateningly in the clouds.

The fairy slept on the top of his open bag and the owl perched on the log next to it. Both seemed oblivious to what Harry perceived at the edge of his senses. Rosebud just wasn't paying attention, not to him anyway.

He'd seen Hermione get into books before, this was just like that. He could drop a train right next to her and she wouldn't even look up.

Staring into the impenetrable darkness he watched invisible shadows dance and swoon. Something was out there. He had to find out what.

Calmly, he walked away from the fire, marching into the lightless black. The moon could have been full, possibly it was, but down on earth there was no light. Away from the fire his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness but still gave him nothing but outlines.

Pushing more power to the enhancement around his eyes did nothing, but all that magic running through his head must have reached his ears, because over the howl of the wind he heard something else, something lower.

Closing his eyes, he listened intently. The wind drown most of it but there was a notably different pitch being generated, moaning, low and deep. He realized it wasn't so much the sound he was hearing but feeling.

"What could possibly do that?"

"Screee!"

He flinched at the surprise announcement, his ears still hearing better than they ought. He settled a bit when he saw the source.

"Couldn't sleep?" he said to the pale staring face.

"Screee!"

"Yeah, well," why did he keep coming across these highly opinionated 'people' he couldn't understand? "I don't suppose you know what's out there."

The owl screee'ed and flapped about in a way that was probably meant to mean something.

"Well, whatever. I'm going."

The owl screee'ed at him again but he just ignored it. He understood this owl less than he'd understood his own owl, and Hedwig had never been all that chatty, unless there was bacon.

He followed the moaning in a sort of near blind trance. He couldn't see a damn thing and stumbled through the darkness, knowing better than to light his wand and completely blind himself. The darkness was too thick for his little light to be of any help, and the ground leveled out before he had the chance to become too discouraged.

Sand and gravel replaced root and vine, asking questions while providing no answers. Harry continued cautiously, now fearing what he might step into rather than trip over.

After a time, he became aware of a lightening of the darkness; something was glowing. It cast a pall of green that grew stronger as the sound grew louder.

He could make it out now, the moaning. It chilled him because he knew the sound or felt like he did. It was human, humanish at least. The depth seemed too low even for the deepest baritone, but there was something in it he couldn't help associating with man.

"What the bloody hell?" was lost on the wind as he crept closer.

At last the glow became bright enough for him to see, but what he saw…

A great earthen mound, seeping energy like steam. It took strange shapes, bodies, faces; they were the source of the moaning.

He knew it was foolish to approach. Any sane person would have turned back—well, to be fair, any sane person wouldn't have gone needlessly walking into impenetrable darkness. There really was much to be said about his judgement, little of it good.

He crept closer. The mound didn't seem to notice, until it did. The change was almost instantaneous, a single shuffling step.

The wafting steam of energy erupted, a wailing geyser, the low anguished moan becoming a howling scream as dozens of ghosts went sailing into the air, then proceeded to rain down on his head.

He was given no time to plot his retreat, forced to dodge at speeds he'd not before achieved without the assistance of a very fast broom. He felt the spectral hand tear through his sleeve, telling him all he needed to know about the nature of these specters; their temperament already well established.

His wand lit and blasted into the descending crowd with a long stream of flame. It did them no harm that he could see but they appeared unaware of this as they scattered around the attack, coming at him from every direction.

"Shit!"

Reflexes honed by dodging bludgers and Slytherins, enhanced with magic, kept him ducking and weaving around the madly screaming specters as they dove like angry eagles, slashing with vicious spectral claws, horrible twisted faces flashing past the helpless wizard.

One managed to get in a solid hit that sent Harry sprawling to the ground. The horde rallied as he fumbled helpless and they surged to end him.

Not a foot from his prone form, the lot of them were repelled by a shining barrier. Harry was just as surprised as they.

"Can't take my eyes off you for one second can I."

"Rosebud?"

The little vampire stood over him, holding a strip of wood perhaps a foot long. It quickly became evident the shield was being generated from there.

"What is that?"

"Spirit ward," she said, gesturing for him to take it.

"What do I do?"

"Just hold it."

So, he did. The shield continued to glow while the ghosts continued to slam fruitlessly against it.

"Now what?"

"Just keep holding it," she said, attention turned to a bit of old stone she was carving with her fingernail.

Not wishing to distract from what he assumed was something important, he stood quietly holding the ward. He quickly realized it was his magic powering it, as he felt the shock of each impact like a physical blow; weakened as it filtered through the ward, it was enough for him to know he couldn't stand their holding them off indefinitely.

"Any time would be good."

"Almost done."

Walking around in front of him, she instructed him to snap the ward in half. He looked at her like she was mad, but she simply gave a get on with it gesture with her free hand while the other held the bit of stone.

They surged like the tide the moment the shield was down, a great wave of glowing spectral bodies. He wasn't sure if it was fear or bravado that kept him rooted in place, but as it was, he had a front row seat for what came next.

It was like the water sprites, but with angry spirits. The ones at the back must have realized what was happening because they tried to turn back but by that point, they were all caught up in a swirling vortex that drew them into the odd chunk of stone.

Darkness returned as the last of them vanished, the green spectral glow gone now that its source had been sealed.

"It worked."

The tone of surprise nearly made him faint.

"You weren't sure!"

"Course not," she said, "I've never done it before. Went rather well, don't you think."

He didn't know what to think, "How did you know I needed your help."

"I did tell you my senses were better than yours. We aren't all that far from the campsite and besides, I could sense them out here before you even finished setting it up."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd go wandering in the dark," which showed how little she knew him. "I was so engrossed in what I was doing I didn't even notice when you left. I only realized it when I heard our new friend screeching at you."

"Screee!"

Appearing out of the blackness they white faced bird landed on his shoulder.

"Spose I owe you one then," he said to the owl.

The moon-faced bird preened.

Harry gave a rueful grin which became a pained grimace; he gripped his chest where the ghost had struck to knock him down.

"Come on, I'll need to do something about that," said Rosebud taking him by the hand and leading him through the darkness.

"It's nothing," he lied, "I'm fine."

"My cute little behind you are," she countered, "now come on, don't be difficult."

He would if he wanted to. The thing was, the more time passed, the less he found he wanted to.


	21. Chapter 20

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 20 – Same shit, different place

…

"Headmaster, are you alright?"

That seemed entirely a matter of opinion. By his opinion, the answer would be no, but was his really the only opinion, and for that matter was it necessarily the right opinion. I mean, what did it mean to be alright? What did he mean by opinion? What did he mean by 'mean'?... hmm, seem to have wandered a bit there.

"I'm fine, Ms. DeWinter," the tired old man said. "I've just haven't slept this evening."

"This morning, Headmaster."

"Is it? Already?"

There was no window nearby to confirm it but the Slytherin prefect assured him this was the case. "I heard the birds chirping not just a moment ago."

"Birds, hmm, yes. Have you seen a bird recently Ms. DeWinter?"

The girl looked at him confused, "I'm sorry."

"It would have been blue, sort of like a parrot but with long trailing tail feathers and strange golden eyes."

"No sir, I haven't."

No, of course not.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Was he? "I think, perhaps, I just need to sleep."

The girl nodded as he began the long trudge to his office, "Have a good rest Headmaster."

The old man smiled and nodded, blinking several times to clear his vision. He was starting to see things. Anna DeWinter, as all well knew, had blue eyes, startlingly blue. He must have been tired because for a moment, he could have sworn they were gold.

Sleep, that was the ticket. A good sleep and he'd be just fine. He would be alright.

"You're really sure you want to travel now. You hardly slept."

"I'm fine," Harry assured her, as only a foolish young man with a few delusions of invincibility remaining could.

He wasn't really, fine that is. He hadn't slept at all after the encounter with the ghosts. The lingering pain playing only a minor part, the main role going to the strange obsession that developed the longer he thought on the whole thing which lead to them examining the site in the light of day.

"It's a mass grave," Rosebud had explained, a burial mound. Numerous broken markers ringed the earthen hill, the nature of their breaking being of the unmistakably malicious variety; stone did not naturally break along such perfectly straight lines.

That had been enough to make up his mind. He was in no shape for more fighting.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?"

He didn't, "Do you?"

"I know exactly where I'm going," the little vampire said with a grin, "wherever you're going."

Harry gave a tired chuckle, "Well, that makes one of us."

Was possible their other companions may have had some idea, but since they were of the sort that did not communicate in the standard way, everyone just followed Harry. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He was too tired to feel much about a lot of things but that was neither here nor there (which does beg the question of where it was).

"Those mountains look like a direction."

"You want to go there?"

"I said it was a direction," he corrected. "I don't know what is there or anywhere else for that matter. From where I'm standing any direction is about as good as another so long as we keep moving forward."

Backward was not an option, and not just because he'd fall down if he tried walking backward. He'd made the decision to leave; right or wrong, he'd made the decision and he was going to see it to the end. He was stubborn like that.

"Any chance you could pull out the wagon and your ugly horses?"

"Who says my horses are ugly!"

"I do."

"Sassy pants… and no."

It wasn't that he enjoyed the walking, running near empty as his tank was, but they had shunned the road, and the footpaths of the forest were not made for wagons. Just because they were currently walking across an open plane, rare in his travels thus far, did not mean it would last. He could easily see the tree line in every direction.

"I just thought it might save you the embarrassment of passing out like a sissy," she said conversationally.

Harry looked at his travel companion who looked back perfectly innocent, "You have got a bit too much ginger in you today."

"Don't know what you mean."

Yeah right.

He weathered the mouthy vampire as they went along, hitting the tree line and finding a likely path. She relented briefly as her concentration was required to avoid being lost in the brambles and thorns that grew thick in this particular copse.

It turned out to be a small one as they came out the end not ten minutes later, stumbling to a sudden halt. Another plane stretched out before them, this one was less grass and more gravel but that wasn't why they stopped. A short distance away stood an odd sort of thing; twenty feet tall of materials Harry could only guess at, shaped like a gaping maw with a somewhat demonic slant. Something glowed within.

"It's a portal," said Rosebud, upon closer examination.

"You mean, like the one that brought you to this world."

"Oh goodness no," she said. "I've seen these before, even back on my old world. They're not trans planar, just cross spacial."

"Uh huh," what the what? "And that means?"

"It doesn't send you to another world, just somewhere else on this world."

"Ooooooh. Why couldn't you have just said that to begin with."

"I like feeling superior."

"Brat."

Staring into the enormous mouth he felt as though something was staring back. The green glow unnerved him. He'd experience with green glows, it wasn't good.

"So… we going through?"

"Where does it go?"

"Wherever the other one is," she said. "This is a two-way gate by the look of it."

"Right, you said you'd seen these before. Who built it then?"

"No idea," she said. "Not of this one or those. The ones on my old world predated any contemporary culture. No one knew who built them or why, but it didn't stop people from using them."

It wouldn't, would it? "Anything about this that gives you any hints where it might take us."

"Well, it's pointed toward the mountains."

"Is that important?"

"No."

Several deep breaths were taken to alleviate his aggravation, closing his eyes for a good rub then opening them again revealed it hadn't worked, she was still there.

"So, shall we go?"

He considered another long moment, then sighed in defeat. "Here, take this," he said, handing her his bag.

"Why?"

"I have a history with magical travel," he said, staring hard at the portal. "The first time is always the worst. I don't want my bag getting wrecked."

"Maybe I should go first then?"

Harry shook his head, "No. Follow me. I don't want you getting hurt."

"You're sure?"

Harry looked at the vampire who attempted to feign innocence. "You just want to be on the other side so you can see what happens."

"Yes."

Her smile was so unrepentant Harry could do nothing but shake his head. "Wait a minute then follow."

Psyching himself up, he remembered the sage words of Molly Weasley from that day so long ago. Bobbing a few times on his feet, he ran.

As magical travel went it wasn't the worst. There was a moment of disorientation, the feeling of being everywhere and nowhere all at once, then he was through, then he was tripping on the rock, then he was falling on his face, then he was rolling down the very steep hill, into the bushes, through the bushes, and finally into a small river where he came to a very wet stop.

Coughing a lungful of water, he dragged himself out of the river, "Someone— *ehack*— is definitely having a laugh at my expense."

Probably the universe; a sentiment proven by the rock that caught his foot as he slogged out of the water. The black fletched arrow quivering in the sand suggested the universe was doing more than just laughing.

Time slowed as he watched the arrow shake; the arrow that had passed through the space he'd occupied not a second previous, that would now be occupying him if he'd not faceplanted onto the shore.

Magic surged to his eyes and he rapidly scanned the tree line on the far bank.

There, a figure in a black cloak, knocking an arrow to its bow. Scrambling on all fours he ran before the shooter had a chance to aim. This didn't stop them from taking the shot, the arrow zipping dangerously close as he bolted up the length of the river.

With his enhanced hearing he could hear them give chase, more than one by the sound of it though he couldn't be sure.

Running along the river he felt he knew what a deer must feel, developing a whole new respect for the beast (though not in a way that would keep him from eating them in the future).

Another arrow nicked his arm sending a brief surge of pain to his over worked brainbox. Most people respond to pain in the simple way of trying to avoid it. This had never worked for Harry, and he was no longer so small he had to just sit there and take it.

Pain became anger and Harry diverted his course, turning to the river and leaping across in one mighty bound. By the sound of the shuffling detritus his attacker hadn't been expecting that.

Emboldened, he charged the cloaked figure who retreated with equal haste into the wood. Ducking and weaving they tore through the trees at dangerous speed, the magically enhanced wizard coming closer and closer with each second.

He was only a few feet behind when they broke into a clearing. The cloaked figure turned mid step, pulled back and fired at point blank range. With everything moving faster than thought he allowed his body to simply react and swatted the arrow away before lowering his shoulder and checking his attacker in the midsection.

The sound of the forcible exhale echoed in his ear and the cloaked figure flew across the clearing into the brambles.

Satisfied with his success, he stopped a second to catch his breath, but for the sound of a string being pulled taut; he turned just in time to see the arrow loosed. Instinct saved him again, his body leaning away just quick enough to avoid impalement, and more than quick enough to roll twice in his impromptu retreat.

The next attack came before he'd even stopped; yet another cloaked figure dropping from the trees with a pair of daggers like great saber fangs. He was on his back, almost at a stop but still with momentum. He let it carry him and threw his feet up in a vertical mule kick flying between the daggers and through the chin of his attacker.

The dagger wielder fell away, and Harry's head slid beneath him as he completed his final roll and landed heavily on his front.

He didn't stop to groan as he would have otherwise been inclined to do, but quickly looked around for the second archer. They hid well, but the creak of the bow gave them away and Harry was off the ground just as the arrow flew past.

Ducking behind the nearest tree he bumped into yet another cloaked figure. Just as surprised to see him, the cloak reacted a split second too slow, dropping the knife they were drawing as Harry shoved his elbow in their shadowed face.

The one standing behind the tree next to him took advantage of his distraction to pull their blade and make a surprise lunge. The blade slashed across his side as he was turning, then this attacker also fell to a rock-hard elbow to the head.

Two more appeared out of nowhere wielding full-sized swords, nasty curved sabers they swung in deadly elegant waves. He dodged around the tree and back into the clearing, barely missing yet another arrow which gave away the position of the archer.

He tried to go after them, but the sword wielders cut him off, then attempted to cut him down.

The difference between them was quickly made evident. They moved like cats toying with a mouse; slashing, stabbing, leading him where they wanted and punishing every misstep. The cuts were small, shallow; they weren't trying to kill him quickly.

The moment he realized they were playing with him; was the moment he lost his temper.

He took another cut intentionally, planting both feet and slamming his hands into the ground. The earth shook and rolled like ripples in a pond. The dancing swordsman stumbled back, and another arrow went wide as the ripple reached the trees, shaking them like a petulant giant.

A savage grin crossed his face and he took a menacing step forward, "I, AM, DONE, PLAYING, With yuu—gah!"

Reaching around the back of his neck he pulled out the nasty thing that had stung him. A brief inspection showed it so be some sort of dart, the purpose of which became readily apparent as he was suddenly holding five of them, in five right hands.

Realizing what was happening he dropped the dart as the world tilted. His sense of balance failed him as he tried to remain upright, saved from the ground only by slamming into a tree.

"No—no, you—you won't—not gonna…"

A heavy blow from behind silenced his protest and the last thing he knew was the cold, hard earth.


	22. Chapter 21

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 21 – Ashe and dust

…

"Well, this doesn't look good."

The arrow, firmly lodged in the soft earth, was clearly a recent addition to the landscape. It was too new, lacking the erosion of time or elements that would have quickly collected in the local climate. The absence of Harry, plus the addition of several more arrows gave her a vague idea of what had happened.

The fairy tinkled something agitated, fretting openly over the arrow and the lack of Harry.

"Can you find him?" the little vampire asked.

The fairy nodded, pointing into the wood on the opposite side of the river.

"Of course," the vampire moaned, staring balefully at the narrow, shallow, running body of water. "Come on, we need to find some way across. Who knows what trouble that boy is getting into."

…Not Harry, that's for sure.

Finding his hands and feet tied to a pole bobbing through the forest, was never a way he wanted to wake up, but there he was. His would-be assassins had become his captors. Why? Who knows. Where were they taking him? Same answer.

He tried to play possum, seeing no advantage if they realized he was awake, but he wasn't much of an actor, plus the faintly glowing rings around his eyes were something of a giveaway.

It made his head ache to maintain the minor enhancement. Whatever drug they'd used to knock him out was clearly still in his system, and he fought just for a minor improvement to his abysmal eyesight. If he were going to die, he wanted to see it coming; he'd sworn he would years ago when fighting Quirrell. He would meet death face to face.

This was something death very much appreciated. Most people tended to run the other way when they saw him coming which could really get to you after a few eternities.

"Don't try anything wizard. Mistress would prefer you alive, but she'll be just as satisfied with dead if you give us any trouble."

Harry wasn't sure what trouble he could currently give them. His body felt like lead. Even if he weren't bound there was no way he could fight, and any kind of magic that could save him was totally out of the question. He didn't fancy apparating to safety, only to discover he was missing some vital parts.

Patience, that was the key. Wait for an opportunity, or for someone to save him.

And why not? He wasn't proud. He was already damseling pretty hard. So long as his savior was cute, he would love them long time.

Barely able to see he closed his eyes, saving his strength, and focused on the senses that required no enhancement to work. Scent and sound, the scent of earth, the sound of boots crunching leaves and twigs.

He perked up when they changed, organic giving way to something like man made. The earthy scent faded, and the crack and snap of twigs became a regular click, heels on stone.

Where are we, he wanted to ask, but suspected the answer would be the back of a hand across his face.

Getting clever, he opened one eye and focused all his concentration on that. It took some adjusting, and his headache only got worse, but the image clarified, and he got a good, quick look at his surroundings.

It was probably nice once, that was his first thought. Stone buildings lined long, wide, cobbled streets, leading to a massive towering structure which looked to be the center of the city. Or perhaps not city; city seemed to undersell the scale of the place. It had likely been quite the metropolis.

That time was long past. Everything around him screamed from their absent roofs, "OLD! BROKEN! RUINED!"

From the towering structure to the cobbles beneath him, everything shone with the wear of age and disrepair. Stone cracked and split, and grass grew out of every nook and cranny it could wedge itself into.

Such dilapidation left him to wonder at all the people who came out to gawk. Had they been living here the whole time? Had they watched their home fall into such a state? And perhaps more importantly, where were all the men?

Of the gray skinned white-haired people who peered from doorways and windows or merely stopped to stare as he was carried by, not a single one was without the obvious indicators of the opposite gender. And the way they stared, heated, disgusted, it was all too familiar.

"This cannot bode well for me," he mumbled under his breath, remembering, 'she'll be just as satisfied with you dead'.

He continued to watch in silence as he was hauled like a bit of meat to the big central structure. It looked little better on the inside, though someone had gone to the trouble of crudely sealing the holes with plaster.

The women carrying him spoke briefly to one who waited just inside before bringing him through a series of halls to a room opulently adorned. He'd never read the Arabian nights, but if he had this was what he would have imagined.

Silk hung in waves from the ceiling and the entire circular room was lined with massive pillows. On said pillows lay a dozen or so women in various stages of undress; at least, that's how he thought of it. Was possible this was as dressed as any of them ever got. They seemed perfectly comfortable in such a state, lying, lounging, sipping wine.

The sight of it all could have been one to arouse, if not for the claxons of his danger sense screaming in his ear. He was no safer with these harmless looking females than he had been in the forest fighting the others, he was sure.

"Lyraka, what is this you have brought into my presence?"

The question came from a standout in the crowd, the only woman properly dressed and not sprawled across a pillow but sitting in a proper chair. Though perhaps chair was underselling it; much like the headmaster's chair in the great hall of Hogwarts, it was more of a throne.

"Mother," the one who had threatened him addressed the other woman, "we found this wizard near the door. He attacked us, but we were able to capture him."

Though barely able to see, he could feel the woman eyeing him.

"Doesn't look like much of a wizard."

You wouldn't either trussed up like a trophy hog, he thought.

"Does it have a name?"

Harry held his tongue, which the back of the hand told him was not the correct response. "What's it to ya?" Neither was that, the back of the hand said so, loudly.

"You will show respect dog," his captor growled.

"I'd rather hide it," still not the right response, and the back of the hand was getting hoarse.

"So willful," the woman on the throne said with a slight titter, "or perhaps he just enjoys being beaten. How naughty."

The idea clearly didn't appeal to the one that brought him in, and she struggled against the urge to strike him again, lest it turn out he was enjoying her ministrations.

"Miserable filth," she spat.

"I've been called worse."

"Do tell," said the throne woman, handing off her wine glass and giving a thoughtful scratch to one overlong pointed ear.

He hadn't noticed till she'd drawn attention to it, but now that she had he could see all of them had ears like that.

"What are you?" he voiced the question before his brain could remind him of the likely consequences.

The back of the hand did not disappoint.

"We are the Ashe (Ah-sh)," the throne woman said, giving him a look that made his skin try to flee his body, "and you, my dear wizard, will be my 'special' guest for the evening. Prepare him."

… I am the terror, that flaps in the night

Without much ado evening came, and with it, the dark. The Ashe did not fear dark, their night vision was superior to any humans. It was not however, superior to a vampire's, a thing they did not know since none of them practiced necromancy.

Rosebud hopped from canvas tarp to canvas tarp with all the presence of a playful breeze. The owl flew overhead while the fairy rode on her shoulder, her natural illumination shadowed by the vampire's umbrella.

"Are we close?"

The fairy nodded, pointing to the large structure in the middle. Where lamps and candles could be seen through empty windows, lighting rooms.

"I don't hear screaming, yet," she observed. "Better hurry, all the same. Who knows what wretched state he might be in."

…It's smooth on my bum

It wasn't wretched really, though he was a bit chilled and still a little damp. Preparing him had involved a lot of cold water and a set of manacles on his wrists and feet that dampened his magic the same way the drug had before the rush of cold flushed most of it from his system.

He still felt leaden, but he could move, or could have if he hadn't been bound spread eagle on a very solid, if not terribly uncomfortable, bed. He'd never felt silk sheets before. He would have appreciated it more if he weren't naked and alone.

The situation didn't improve when company arrived, and he suddenly regretted complaining about being alone.

"Well, look at you. Clean up rather nicely, don't we."

The throne woman eyed him like a starving dog eyes a big, thick bone that still has a scrap of meat on it. Though most dogs did not wear so much black leather, nor carry well-oiled whips that shone in the flickering light.

"I don't suppose you'd consider letting me go?" he asked in a bout of desperate optimism.

"Let you go? Now that we're alone together," her laughter was sweet, bell like, and so fake it was impossible not to see it for mockery.

He tried to pull against the chains, but they were stretched taught, and the manacles blocking his magic prevented him from doing more than enhance his eyes so he could see her looking at him. He wished he couldn't, it was not a good look, it boded.

The whip lashed out like a rolling serpent, slapping his left pectoral with a hornet like sting. Instinctively he bit back the cry of pain.

"Now, now, no need to hold it in. It's been so long since my whip has tasted soft flesh. Give us a little scream, won't you please?"

He wouldn't. He was ready for the second strike and held it in firmly. If anything, this only seemed to please her.

"I was right. You are willful," she girlishly giggled to herself. "Oh, we are going to have such fun."

Playfully she leapt onto the bed and straddled him. Such an intimate pose was found lacking in affection because it allowed him to look her right in the eyes, and what he saw behind those pale orbs was something like madness. At least, he felt he might go mad if he kept looking, and with her so close, it was impossible to look away.

"It's been so long," she crooned, "you have no idea. Look at me, trembling like some little girl about to have her first time. Can you hear it, my heart, so loudly it beats for you. The butterflies in my belly are having a carnival."

She babbled barely coherent in her excitement, squeezing him tightly between her thighs.

"I love you!" she declared in a heated passion. "Speak soft, all the ways that I love you. All the ways the I will love you. Such love, such pain. Hurt you. Yes, all the ways I shall hurt you. You will feel my love, scream my love. Taste my love, such sweet agony."

"I don't think you're my type," Harry groaned as she rubbed herself up and down his torso with smooth leather trousers, stopping at his words as though physically struck.

"Oh!" she cried. "Such scorn. You would wound me with your words alone. OH! The pain of rejection! My heart! How it aches!"

Such theatrics, over the top as they were, seemed oddly genuine, and something else. She seemed to revel in the pain.

"Truly, you must love me," she said. "To hurt me so, it can be nothing else. Come then, let me show you my love."

Her hand lashed out, striking him across the face, then the other, and again, and again.

"Do you feel it? Do you feel my love?" she screamed, slamming both hands down on his throat and squeezing.

Her grip was solid, she was frighteningly strong. Was it always so or was her madness to blame? Bound as he was there was little he could do, but what little he could he did. Thrusting his hips, the only bit not tied down, he tried to throw her off, but it was no use.

He was stretched tight, too little space to heave, and her weight was oddly distributed. The thrusting motion did get her attention though, in the worst possible way.

"You thrust so vigorously my love. Have you finally acknowledged your love, or is it just your wanton lust?"

It didn't appear to matter; arching her back in ecstatic bliss pulled her hands away from his throat and the wind filled his pipes.

"Are you insane!"

It was a stupid question, but the lack of oxygen getting to his head had shut off several vital circuits, like the one between his mouth and his brain.

"Are not all who love at a loss for sanity?" she asked flirtatiously, pulling an odd blue pill from between her pale ashen breasts.

"What is that?"

"This?" she said, as if just noticing it. "Just a little something to enhance your performance," she smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, "This will keep you up for days. A pity the necrosis will have set in before it wears off."

Harry's eyes bulged as she shrugged carelessly and pushed the pill at him. "Open wide."

Like hell, he thought, clamping his jaw so hard it hurt.

"Are you teasing me? How naughty," she giggled, then squeezed his nose shut with the other hand. "I can't wait any longer," she purred as his face turned red. "Can't you feel it, the heat. I'm burning for you. Burning!"

He felt like he was burning as well. Red became purple, became blue; instinct warred with reason who lost ground swiftly. She leaned in, kissably close, pressing the pill against his lips.

He was doomed; either he suffocated or died of necrosis. He wasn't sure which idea appealed less.

He was saved from having to choose when something shot in through the window and slammed into his would-be lover's head.

Once again life-giving air filled his lungs as the murderous happy pill flew across the room.

The assailing object glowed brightly in the dim candle lit room, and it only took a second for him to realize what it was.

"Fairy!" and if she was here…

"Did we interrupt?"

"Rosebud."

The little vampire smirked; the owl sat nonchalant on her shoulder.

"Should we come back in half an hour?"

"No!"

Rosebud sighed, "Love them and leave them. What a typical man."

"You think you're funny but you're not," Harry growled. "Now get me out of here."

"Oh, very well. Where are the keys?"

With the one who chained him to the bed. Before he could explain that however, the rather one-sided fight between fairy and Ashe drew a loud angry yell that could not be mistaken for the throws of passion.

"Mother! Is something wrong?"

His captor, Lyraka, strode purposefully into the room. A ring of keys clinked from where they hung on her belt.

"Never mind. I found them."

Before the other elfin woman could fully assess the situation, Rosebud buried the heel of her palm in the woman's solar plexus, stealing her breath and her keys in one fell swoop.

"Gah! You fool! Stop them! Don't let them escape!"

Gasping for air, Lyraka tried to call for help but the words would barely form, coming out in pitiful wheezes as Rosebud worked the locks and set Harry loose.

Sliding off the bed he nearly fell when his legs refused to support him.

"Am I going to have to carry you out of here?" the little vampire asked.

"Maybe," said Harry, struggling to get his feet under him. "They had me drugged earlier. Feels like it hasn't totally worn off yet."

"Can you transform? It'd be much easier to carry you like that."

"I'll try."

Blocking out the screams of fairy fight and wheezing woman, Harry dug deep for focus, scraping just enough to put him in mind of squirrely things. It was a tough change, the toughest since his first days with the transformation but it worked.

Small in body and big in eyes he clambered into the vampires waiting hands.

"Fairy! Time to go."

With a last blast of angry magic, the fairy buzzed after the vampire as she vaulted out the window.

Screams of rage and lust unfulfilled were quickly joined by ringing bells and the stamp of boots, all of which came too late. By the time they'd organized a search the small group had rendezvoused with the wolf and were making good time through the darkened wood in the opposite direction from which they came.


	23. Chapter 22

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 22 – Lost in the woods

…

The wolf prowled through the underbrush with fierce determination. Lesser beasts fled before the pronounced pad of his padded foot as he made a large circle, walking it continuous as he prowled. None would enter his circle. The pack would be protected.

The pack, as it were, slept at the foot of a large tree, hidden behind some bushes speckled with tart green berries. The little vampire dozed lightly beneath her umbrella, the owl on her shoulder dozed even lighter. Only the fairy and the wizard slept deeply, only the fairy by choice.

The small squirrel, that was in fact a wizard, was exhausted in a way he never had been before. The drug, he discovered, did not leave his system upon transformation, and his much smaller body required much less effort to show its effects. It was only fortunate he hadn't tried the change while the drug prevailed his system; it probably would have killed him.

Possible he would still die; the chase was on in earnest.

Rosebud had easily outpaced the Ashe during the night, but in the daylight, she was greatly hampered, being forced to rest and give them time to catch up.

Here the forest was their friend. Thick with trees and thicker with thorns, it would slow the pursuit if not stop it, and it would not stop it. Their best chance was to move as soon as possible, wind through the forest both quick and erratic.

If they were lucky, getting lost in the woods would be the least of their worries.

…Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts

"How long will you be?" asked Dumbledore.

"Not long," said Hagrid, adjusting the strap on his pack, "no more'n two weeks less sumfin happens."

"I pray you an uneventful trip."

"Well, not too uneventful."

The old wizard smiled at his large friend. His deep concern hid like a timid child behind that smile. He didn't fear for the big man, not really, yet at the same time he couldn't help but feel he was saying goodbye for the last time.

He really was getting old if he was thinking things like that.

And yet, he couldn't help thinking it as he watched his friend walk away, his massive stride and eager pace eating up the distance till he melted into the tree line.

"Farewell my friend," he mumbled to the air. "Try not to get lost."

…Lost, who's lost?

"We are not lost!"

The Fairy tinkled something that sounded very accusatory as she floated alongside the vampire.

"To say we are lost would imply we had any idea where we were going in the first place," the little vampire said primly, stepping lightly over the rotten remnants of a log.

Strictly speaking they weren't lost, or perhaps it could be said they'd been lost since the moment they stepped through the portal. Either way, it amounted to the same thing.

Glancing down as she walked, she found the squirrel was still sound asleep in her pocket, his big eyes closed as silent snores whistled between his teeth. It worried her, but there was nothing she could do about it but keep walking and hope he woke up.

The wolf, walking ahead, stopped suddenly. Sniffing the air, it whined, looking back the direction they'd come. Wondering at the peculiar reaction she consciously opened her own senses and discovered a surprise.

There was a slight breeze blowing at their back. So slight she hadn't noticed, but he had.

"Good boy," she said patting the wolf, his tongue lolling happily.

The scent that had stopped him was vaguely familiar, but she knew what it was without question. The Ashe were getting closer.

"Come on. Let's pick up the pace."

If she could keep distance between them until the sun set, she might have a fighting chance. Getting caught under the scornful eye of flame would be less optimal.

"Maybe there's a swamp around here somewhere. That'd help."

…Did I say we were lost

Muddy, mucky, marshy mire. The smell of salt wafted like an anvil shoved up their nostrils. It was an important task they'd been given, an adventure even, but like so many adventures the adversity presented really stank.

"I think we're lost."

"We can't be lost."

"Can't we? Oh good, I was worried for a second."

The odd trio turned in circles. They could still smell the salty marsh, though it was now out of sight. What was also out of sight was the trail they had left on their way to the marsh to collect water.

"I'm sure we came this way," said Dakota.

"I don't recognize any of these trees," said Laurel which earned him a look.

"There are like a million trees. How would you know if you recognized one!"

"That one looks rather memorable," said Wizard, pointing to a bulging twisted horror.

"Definitely don't remember that."

"Uuuuuugh!"

For all her virtue's, patience was not one of them. It's why she and Laurel got along like they did. He was usually quiet and reserved, while she ran headlong into just about any and every situation. She needed him to hold her back and he needed her to drag him along.

Wizard had wormed his way into the group by offering insightful color commentary.

"I say. What a lovely blue bird."

Like that.

"Where'd he come from?" said Dakota.

"Can't be from around here. Looks tropical," observed Laurel.

The bird in question, a bit parrot like in appearance with long trailing tail feathers, sat in a high branch of the twisting horror, looking down at them with eyes like brushed gold.

"Certainly an intelligent looking creature, don't you think?" the lizard mused.

"Maybe he knows how to get back to Hogwarts," said Dakota in jest.

"You think he might?"

"No Wizard, I don't."

"Well, it couldn't hurt to ask, could it?"

She supposed it couldn't and Laurel merely shrugged when the loquacious lizard posed the question to the fancifully feathered fellow.

The bird looked at them, then stroked his beak in a very un-bird like manner. Looking around as he mused, stroking and stroking, then the ah-ha moment, one final nod and the stroking wing straightened, pointing them, ostensibly, toward the castle.

Wizard was quite pleased with this outcome, but Dakota and Laurel could only gape.

"Have we fallen into Wonderland?" Laurel whispered.

"If we have, don't you dare call me Alice," said Dakota, stomping away in the appointed direction, leaving a whole new set of tracks they'd never see again.

…Surprise, you're lost

"Are you sure this is right?"

"The tracks are right there. Open your eyes."

The two Ashe glared, hunter and trapper matching wills as blades were not allowed; though that wasn't typically known to stop stabby violence when push came to shove, or mean word came to wrong look.

"Fine then 'tracker'. There's the print, so where's our prey?"

The print in the mud was heavy and blatant and followed by nothing. For at least twenty feet forward or to either side, nothing.

"Wizardry."

"Oh, do come on."

"I don't see you offering anything better!"

The pair growled and griped at the loss of their quarry, oblivious to the silence around them. Such a silence in the middle of the day when the air should have been full of the scratch and scrabble of tree dwellers dwelling and the constant cacophony of birdsong birding, unthinkable. If either had been paying attention, they would have noticed its strangeness, the excess, the weight.

But they didn't. Caught up in their game of you, no you, the stifling silence crept around them till its position was perfect. The attack came mid-accusation, turning snappish insult to gurgling scream.

The un-assaulted stumbled back, trying to draw her weapon. It failed her in the end, batted aside by a tiny girlish hand as hard and strong as steel. It gripped her by the throat and dragged her down so she was eye to glowing red eye with the tiny monster.

Blood smeared across her doll like face, yet her teeth were immaculate, glistening white as they plunged into the ashen skin. A brief struggle and the body went limp, falling to the ground with a leaden thud. Silence returned.

Rosebud looked at her handiwork, stretching out her tongue, attempting to clean her face. "That wasn't so bad."

Two less now hunted them, but there were more. She caught their scent as soon as she finished cleaning the blood off, and something else. She scowled at the familiar odor, potent and powerful and coming her way.

"Dammit!"

Leaving this curse to hang over the corpses she fled the kill site, not bothering to be discreet. It would do no good, it did not hunt by tracks but by scent, and it had a very powerful nose.

Dashing through bushes and in between trees she heard the telltales of her companions waiting. Shooting through the tree line suddenly she was forced to a skidding halt.

"Whoa!" Her halt, had it come a few seconds later, would have involved a very long drop, and a very wet end.

Stretched out before her a wide ravine cut off her path, a swift white river roaring at the bottom. The wolf nudged her hand, forcing her to focus rather than stare in abject horror.

Looking first right then left, the ravine ran well beyond her sight with no clear way to cross, save the obvious.

"It's times like this I wish I knew how to fly." Though even if she did it wouldn't help her puppy, and she wasn't about to leave him behind. "Alright Harry, time for you to wake up."

Gently she nudged the small squirrel stretched across the wolf's back. She'd sent him along when she made her little ambush, not wishing to see him hurt and hoping he would be awake by the time she caught up.

No such luck.

The squirrel stirred a little under her prodding but refused to rouse. Even as the sound of their enemy grew louder, he would not wake.

Rosebud cursed, stared across the great expanse, "We need to get over there."

The owl and the fairy nodded and proceeded to fly the distance carrying the pack she'd left in their care. The fairy waved from the other side, oblivious to the vampire's glare.

"And how is that supposed to help those of us that can't fly?"

It was a rhetorical question, though if someone could have answered it, she wouldn't have objected.

All questions, rhetorical or otherwise, became moot when a swaggering mass shouldered its way through the brush and into the small clearing at the edge of the ravine. A great puff of hot air escaped its snout when the rider pulled it to a halt.

The Ashe woman smiled down at the vampire and her wolf. It was not a friendly smile, it insinuated.

"You have exactly one chance blood sucker," the woman sneered. "Where is the wizard?"

Right in front of you, but you don't know that apparently.

Intelligence, or the lack thereof, had been the doom of many an army. At a glance, it appeared Harry's animal transformation had not been relayed to those hunting him. So where did that leave her?

The Ashe was a threat, second only to the Caladonian boar she was riding, but they weren't after her. Could she betray the wizard to save her own hide? If she gave Harry up would they let her go?

A wry snort escaped her nostrils. Of course not.

That left her one recourse… jump.

It was a long jump; a long jump of a long jump; the sort of jump that was, at the best of times, difficult to justify. Like faith, you threw yourself out their expecting to be caught and were shocked, SHOCKED, by the abrupt stop at the bottom. Whereas if you threw yourself out not expecting to be caught, ninety nine times out of a hundred you still made an abrupt stop at the bottom, the difference being the lack of surprise, though that didn't make it any less of a shock.

Two hundred feet was beyond her ability even at full strength, and under the withering glare of the setting sun, well, technically it didn't become any less likely.

"I grow impatient child!"

Channeling its rider, the boar took a threatening step forward, driving Rosebud right to the edge, in every sense. She couldn't win the fight, and she couldn't make an escape. The situation was literally hopeless.

The situation changed with a dramatic 'squeak'.

"The hell is that?"

The squirrel stood atop the wolfs head like it were some high mountain peak.

*Dramatic pose*

Looking at the hammy rodent, Rosebud couldn't help a sigh of relief, despite being a vampire and not actually needing to breath, some situations just call for it. "Decided to wake up Harry."

The squirrel became a wizard faster than the Ashe could blink, standing nose to snout with the boar, hands raised in front of its eyes.

"Don't blink."

The brilliant flash lit the world like a second sun and the boar reacted in the only way its tiny brain knew how. Squealing madly, it bucked and flailed, tossing its rider around as it thrashed blindly.

The wizard politely gave it some space, lots of space, grabbing the girl and the wolf and vanishing with the slightest pop.

…I have seen the light

"There it is!"

"Finally!"

Hogwarts, shadowed under the mountains looming behind, glowed like magic in the failing light. To those who had spent hours lost in a forest full of man-eating beasts, so it was assumed, the sight of their castle home filled all three with feelings beyond description.

This did not stop some from trying, "Magnificent! Majestic! Melancholic!... no wait, not that last one. What's another good M word?"

The witch and wizard shared a look and shook their heads.

"Come on. I've had enough adventure for one day," said Dakota.

"I hear that," said Laurel. "Still can't help wondering about that bird though."

"Meh."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not a little curious."

"The only thing I'm curious about is, did we miss dinner?"

"Oh dear, I hope not," said Wizard, giving up on his quest for a third M in light of this newest revelation.

"Me either," Laurel agreed. "Getting lost is hungry work."

"All we did was walk around a lot," said Dakota.

"Yeah, but you weren't carrying this guy around," said Laurel, jerking his thumb in a certain direction.

Wizard tried to look in that direction but found nothing, except himself. "Oh! I'm this guy!"

Laurel grinned at the lizard's mortification. He didn't really mind carrying him everywhere. The lizard could of course walk but walking upright as he usually preferred was not a means of locomotion he was built for. His short back legs made it more of stroll.

"I don't really mind carrying you," said Laurel.

"That's very kind of you," said the lizard. "I do hate to be an imposition."

"You're not an imposition. I promise, you're not."

…Carry me away

"It was quite the imposition I don't mind telling you, walking around with a squirrel in my pocket. You really did take your sweet time waking up."

Harry smiled at the vampire as she carried on about what an imposition he was. He didn't believe her, not for a second. He knew what it sounded like when people were complaining about him. The little vampire was just blowing off steam. The stress of being hunted had built up over the day, and now that she was safe and he was conscious, she could let it all out.

"Have I mentioned how much I appreciate what you did," he said, cutting her off and drawing out an awkward silence she tried to fill with nervous fidgeting.

She wasn't used to being thanked; he could tell. That had been him not so long ago.

"Yes well, you could stand to show it," she said, trying to get back her momentum. "I spend all day carrying you, maybe you should carry me a while. Yes! Yes, that's it. You should carry me. What do you think of that?"

I think it's a weak bluff, that's what he thought. I also think now is a good time for you to learn not to bluff with me.

The vampire squeaked as she was whisked off her feet and into his magically strengthened arms, pressed against his naked chest, his shirt having been lost to the Ashe.

"Come on you lot," he said to the others.

Without question the wolf rose and followed with the tittering fairy riding near his head and the owl at the middle of his back adjusting her grip.


	24. Chapter 23

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 23 – Strange men, strange days

…

It was an odd sort of morning that found you up a tree. An odd sort of bird who sat in that tree, his legs dangling down out of reach of the teeth. An odder bird still that had no wings, forced to climb the tree to escape the teeth, and the hairy dog bodies attached.

"Well, I dare say this is quite the pickle, isn't it?" the small man said to himself.

Generally it is seen as a bad sign when one starts talking to themselves, but in the case of Bill Baggs, who had been doing it for so long the other him was well past the teenage rebellion faze and getting into portly middle age, it was just a matter of course, of course.

When you traveled the trails of the world alone as he did, you found you missed the sound of words. Howling and growling just did not evoke the old-time comforts of hearth, home, and civilization. You missed those sorts of things in the wilderness.

Much like you missed walls and doors when you were stuck up a tree, surrounded by wolves.

"And the morning started off so lovely too. Well now what am I supposed to do?" he inquired to no one in particular, since there was no one in particular there to hear him, let alone answer the question.

Birds chirped from several trees away, they were no help, and squirrels scampered about their business, unconcerned with terrestrial matters that couldn't climb trees. With one exception.

He, the exception, watched the small man sitting in the tree with some interest. The small man noticed this interest and stared back curiously. The squirrel countered this curiosity with a thoughtful scratch of its chin, to which the small man responded with a bewildered tilt of the head.

The squirrel, sitting one branch up, considered the man who considered right back.

"Don't suppose you've got any ideas by chance?" He certainly didn't and he was not above taking advice from a squirrel, given he was below it.

The squirrel looked around then scurried across the tree to another branch. This one was thicker, stronger, necessarily so as the tiny tree rodent magically morphed into a full grown, or late teenish, shirtless, man.

"Morning," he greeted.

"My word!" the small man greeted back. "This morning really is getting strange."

"Strange isn't so bad," the man said, casually swinging his legs, "beats whatever's going on down there."

Couldn't argue with that. "I don't suppose you could do something about them. Only, my butt has fallen asleep on this branch so I'd really rather like to get off."

The youngish man looked down at the wolf pack, circling, snarling, gnashing their teeth.

"Any number of things I could do really," he said. "Most would be quite a waste though. I mean, what good is a bunch of dead wolves to anyone."

"Well I see your point of course, it's just, if it comes to them or me, I'm much more partial to me you understand," he was the only him he had after all.

"A valid point," the young man said. "Still, I hate to be wasteful. Product of my upbringing you see. Can't say I enjoyed it, the upbringing I mean, but, there you are."

"Here I am," the small man agreed.

"Can you hang around a bit?"

"Don't see why not," the branch had held him this long.

"Excellent. I'm just going to run along and get my friend. She should be able to wrangle this bunch without anyone dying. Back in flash."

Gone in a flash too, or perhaps not so much a flash as a pop.

"I say, this morning really is getting strange," he mused, glancing downward once more. "I don't suppose you lot would like to discuss this like civilized people?"

The response he got was something less than civilized.

"Hmm, worth a try," and it really had started out as such a nice morning.

… Oh, cry me a river

"Stupid, cruddy mornings!"

"Oh, do get over it already."

If there was one thing Blaise Zabini couldn't stand it was complainers. I mean, unless it was him complaining, then it was totally justified, but when other people did it, just a lot of whining is what it was, and he couldn't stand that.

"I don't see why we have to be out here so early!" they continued to gripe.

"Because the day starts when the sun rises, not when it reaches its peak," said Blaise. "Now stop your whining and swing that axe. Wood isn't going to split itself."

"I don't see you swinging an axe. Where do you get off telling me what to do?"

Blaise smile, he'd been hoping that question would come up. "As general supervisor, my duties are far more cerebral and infinitely more important than merely swinging an axe which any brainless oaf can do."

His fancy title, which he'd given himself, existed purely by virtue of his being the oldest of the first draft meaning he had seniority. There were only two others among the woodcutters older than he. They were both Hufflepuff and possessed all the charisma of a pair of marshmallows which they somewhat resembled, soft and squishy. Their only redeeming qualities came from their ability to follow orders and not complain overly, unlike the one currently staring mutiny at him.

Fortunately for Blaise he was only a Ravenclaw and didn't possess that mutiny in sufficient quantities to use it.

"Hmph! More trouble than it's worth," he grumbled under his breath.

An idea Blaise hoped to ingrain in all those directly beneath him. Why cling to power through hard work when you could just convince everyone else it would be too much work for them to try and take it.

It wasn't all champagne and caviar though, being the boss. Sometimes you actually had to do stuff. Like when one of the second years came running up with a problem.

"What is it? Don't tell me one of the saw blades broke again," it was bound to happen when you had first and second years doing the transfiguration.

The first time it had nearly turned one of them into swiss cheese.

"There's a bird sitting on the logs!"

… the what?

"Can you say that again. I'm almost certain I didn't hear you correctly."

"There's a big blue bird sitting on the logs."

"Uh huh… alright, I give up. What's the joke?"

"It's not a joke," the young boy said. "There's a big blue bird sitting on the logs and it won't get off."

Oh for Merlin's sake, "Just shoo it away."

"We tried that. It just sat there and stared at us like we were crazy or something."

Smart bird, the Slytherin thought, "You're telling me no one down there can get one stupid bird off the logs. So just move them with the bird on there. He sees those saw blades coming he'll move on his own."

"We can't. Every time we try and levitate the log he's on, it just drops back down. We don't know why."

Incompetence was the first thing that came to mind. He dismissed the idea purely because there were several Slytherin boys down there as well and anyway, they'd been doing this every day for weeks. Sort of odd they'd start failing now.

"Fine! Let's see this magical blue bird," the general supervisor groaned, following after the distressed wood cutter, making sure to display the appropriate level of annoyance.

He always felt it represented a failure on his part if his subordinates couldn't solve a problem themselves without his intervention. A failure to properly delegate responsibility to someone else.

Coming round the end of the finished stacks he saw the uncut timbers and the affronting bird in question. He paused a moment to collect himself, hiding his surprise so as not to appear weak.

When he'd said blue bird, Blaise had assumed bluebird, maybe a blue jay if they were being particularly ignorant. The bird in question was much larger than either, looking a bit like a parrot but notably larger. There was a hint of its tailfeathers hiding behind it that something of a peacock. Such a bird he had never seen. Oh well.

"Alright, alright, what's all this then?" he blustered, marching up with the swagger of authority.

"Bird won't move," said one of the older boys, the Hufflepuff's.

"Won't he?" said Blaise. "Have you tried asking nicely."

The snideness of his tone seemed to go over the older boy's head, "You think that would work?"

Oh, for Merlin's sake, "I think, you've all wasted enough time," he snapped, drawing his wand on the obstructing avian who stared back with eyes of brushed gold.

Eyes that flashed, drawing a gasp from the Slytherin just before he was hurled through the air into the solid stacks behind him. Crumpling to the ground with an agonizing thud, his body trembled as he attempted to rise.

Shocked still, it was only the boy nearest who heard Blaise moan, "Get—Dumbledore," before falling flat into the land of the unconscious.

… Mornings, am I right

"Truly this has been a strange morning," said old Bill Baggs as he passed around the tea. "Not that I'm complaining bout her ladyship's assistance, I'd just like to make that perfectly clear, but I never would have expected to be saved by a vampire, never mind one so adorable."

Lacking sufficient blood to blush there was no reddening of her cheeks at the small man's praise, that did not stop it from being obvious how embarrassed she was by his praise.

"It—really, it was nothing," she said, attempting to affect an aloof demeanor with limited success. "Vampires have a natural rapport with wolves, it was just a matter of communication."

"Yeah, communication," Harry mumbled around his tea. "The universal language spoken by stomachs everywhere."

Sizzling over the fire which also warmed the tea, an early lunch of tough pork cooked under the wizard's watchful eye. The wolves, so recently menacing the small man sitting next to him, had been fed on cold meat and now lay around the impromptu campsite, fully sated, docile as lambs.

"I hope you won't think me rude, but I really must ask. Do you normally go about so, brazenly? I mean in your manner of dress."

Harry scowled slightly; slightly more when Rosebud snickered, "I only had the one shirt. Sadly, it was lost in the throes of passion."

"Don't you mean flight from passion?" said Rosebud with barely contained mirth.

"I still don't find the situation funny you know," Harry pouted, turning the meat to show he was ignoring her.

"Bit of lady trouble was it?" Bill said. "Can't say's I've had much experience there myself. Though by coincidence, I am on my way to see a lady if you can believe it."

"I see no reason I shouldn't," said Harry. "Anyone I know?"

"Given the direction you said you came from I shouldn't think so. She lives alone you see, just her and the forge. That's her hobby, smithing. Damn fine at it too. She was the one that made this," he said, patting the 'very' short sword that leaned against the log where he was seated.

"Made to size," Harry remarked to the small man's amusement. "She a nice sort?"

"Oh, very. She's a remarkably good personality for a goblin."

"Goblin?" so this world has goblins as well, he thought.

"Well, half goblin technically. Though you wouldn't guess it at first glance. Quite a comely girl for having goblin blood."

"I'll take your word for it," said Harry.

"No need for that," said Bill. "We're only about a half days walk. You can meet her if you like."

Did he like? Given how well his last few encounters had gone he was a bit hesitant. Had the small man asked right after he'd escaped from the Ashe, he would almost certainly have made his excuses and gone.

But that had been over a week prior.

"Why not," he said. "Might be nice to meet someone who won't try to kill me."

… ere, ee's not dead

"How is he?"

"He's not dead."

This was only a small comfort in Dumbledore's mind. The woodcutters had fled the woodpiles and taken the battered form of Blaise Zabini with them. It was only as they passed the doors where he was working that he learned of what happened.

A blue bird, a familiar description. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Madam Pomphrey's wand moved in intricate circles as she worked over the battered young man. It irked Dumbledore that all he could do was watch. He was a powerful wizard, but he was not a healer.

"Albus!"

"Ah, Minerva—and Severus."

"What has happened? We heard someone was attacked," McGonagall said while Snape hovered behind her looking pensive.

"Sadly, it is so. Though with any luck, not fatally," said Dumbledore, glancing again at the magnificent medi-witch.

"Slytherin, again," Snape growled, seeing another of his students in the hospital bed.

"A strange coincidence I'm sure," said Dumbledore, "though the perpetrator is hardly such. Those that brought him in described a parrot like blue bird, identical to the one I chased through the castle on that stormy eve some weeks back."

"You told me about that," said McGonagall. "It has returned then?"

"I'm not sure if it ever left. Regardless, there is nothing we can do here. Let us leave Poppy to her work and see about the safety of our students."

"Is it still there?" his second asked.

"According to what I was told, it didn't move when they left. Let us see if it has done so since."

Marching from the hospital wing and out of the castle the trio approached the woodpiles, ominously silent now that they'd been abandoned.

"On the logs, they said," Dumbledore mumbled as he walked.

And just so, the bird with the golden eyes sat as though waiting, precisely where he'd been, or so Dumbledore assumed, when the whole debacle began.

"Is that it?" McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

"I believe I have just the spell," said Snape, gripping his wand angrily.

"I believe that may have been Mr. Zabini's mistake Severus," Dumbledore warned. "Let us at least attempt diplomacy."

Stepping away from his compatriots he approached the bird who watched with an avian attentiveness. It's golden eyes, so undiscernible, did not leave him for a moment.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, halting a short throw from the bird. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps you might introduce yourself?"

He didn't know what to expect from the strange blue creature. It was clearly magical, but that didn't mean much. He had no idea what to be prepared for and thus felt he was prepared for anything. This of course was wrong.

He was not prepared for the bird to become a man, though such a trick was not unknown to him. He was not prepared for that man to be the same blue color as the bird, nor to have long black hair tied back in a single segmented tail, ornamented in eye like gems.

He was not prepared for that blue skinned man to look at him with those same eyes, like two balls of brushed gold, and smile at him with teeth that glistened like pearls.

"I am Co," the blue man said in a cultured baritone. "Are you the master of this castle, Albus Dumbledore?"

"I am," said Dumbledore.

"Excellent," said Co with a cheerfulness that surprised the elderly wizard. "Then you are just the man I needed to find."

"Is that so?" said Dumbledore, fearing why this might be.

"Yes," the blue man said, his smile taking on a sinister edge, "you see, I've come to take your castle. And if I'm to do that, I shall need to know who I'm taking it from."

Stands to reason, dun it?


	25. Chapter 24

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 24 – Blue man's group

…

"You're sure she won't mind us tagging along?"

The friendly smallish man, who was an Elwin, come to find out, waved off the wizard's concerns. "She could do with the company," he assured them. "Poor thing lives out here all alone. Not her fault she is what she is, but you try explaining that to simple folk."

"No reasoning with unreasonable people," Rosebud surmised with a sagely nod.

It was hard for Harry to argue the point. He'd been raised by unreasonable people, taught by unreasonable people, confronted with unreasonable people for as long as he could remember.

Why was he trying to argue the point?

"I hope she likes dogs."

The wolf pack trailed the group like the tail of a comet. Rosebud's 'puppy' leading them in her stead. The fairy and the owl flitted ahead, coming back periodically to make sure they hadn't gotten lost. Rosebud had joked they were scouting, which was a fine idea but for their inability to perform the scouts most important function, report.

"They're back."

The vampire's singsonged declaration was small warning, but it was enough for him to look up and present an arm before the frantic owl hit him.

"Whoa, easy their Heddy, easy, easy," he coaxed the agitated owl whom he'd decided to name in memory of her predecessor.

"Awfully ruffled. What you spose the matter is?" Bill wondered aloud.

"I don't know," she hadn't been so worked up by the ghosts, and they'd almost killed him.

He turned to Cherry, the fairy, now with three tiny orbiting wisps, hoping to glean some clue. Having yet to learn proper gleaning he stared blankly as he usually did to the rapid bell like tinkling of her tiny voice.

"Well I got nothing."

"We should be close," said Bill. "I wonder if something happened. Did you find her? Is there trouble?" the Elwin asked, directing his questions to the fairy.

She nodded frantically, doing a pantomime that Harry interpreted as six-legged dancing fish, which was probably wrong.

"Better hurry," the small man said, gripping his sword and marching on with haste.

"We're walking into trouble again then?" Rosebud asked, expressing in tone her feelings on the matter.

"Look at it this way," said Harry, trying to be positive, "If there is trouble, we know she won't be mad about 'us' invading her home."

"Ever the optimist," the vampire said, shaking her head as she strode past him, smirking at the burning glare that followed her.

…You and what army

Invading, that's what he was saying. A one-man invasion, or so it appeared. He smiled from his perch as Dumbledore dissected the quandary. It was messy, to say the least, so involved once you peeled back the skin which made it look so simple.

He'd been in the castle, around the castle, this he knew. What he didn't know was how long, how much he'd seen, how much he'd prepared. The castle on its own was mostly indefensible. Too many ways to get in that had once been blocked by magic but were now dangerously open.

"Might I ask?" Dumbledore ventured, "what has brought you so far. We've seen no signs of what one might call 'civilization' since our arrival. Not even a small village."

"Yes, it is quite the hike to the nearest pub," the blue man joked. "One of the advantages to having wings."

"I should very much like to clip those for you," Snape said caustically, stomping up with McGonagall close behind, his patience finally reaching its end.

"My, my, aren't you hostile. Someone needs a nap."

Snape was not even tempered on his best days, and it had to be said, his best days were probably behind him. His wand was pointed at the blue man before Dumbledore could warn him. The spell he growled, unfamiliar, and ultimately irrelevant.

The blue man moved faster than the potion master's hand. His spell was cut off mid curse by a pair of hands slamming down on his shoulders with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground, and the blue man vaulting into the air.

His acrobatics were impressive, landing with a showman's flourish to the stunned onlookers.

"That boy from earlier was quicker," he remarked to the groaning Snape.

It wasn't much of a taunt, but Snape didn't have much in the way of self-control. Scrambling to his feet his next curse was thrown without consideration or even bothering to take proper aim. The blue man danced out of the way.

"Severus, stop!"

The command drew a brief pause, but the blue man childishly sticking out his tongue ended it with equal expedience.

With no consideration for himself or anyone else, Snape charged after the blue man who dashed away from the castle, leading the angry potion master and his trailing tagalongs quite the merry chase.

Being the younger, Snape was in slightly better physical condition than Dumbledore. Being a dungeon dwelling potion bat, it was not by much.

The blue man chuckled as Snape huffed and puffed, too winded to even snarl another curse he simply glared. It lacked its usual potency, what with his target not being a child ostensibly under his supervision in a closed room away from any kind of moral support. The lack of reaction only seemed to make him angrier.

"You—can't keep—running—forever," he wheezed.

"Longer than you," he teased, giving Dumbledore and McGonagall a brief glance as they caught up, McGonagall appearing far less winded than Dumbledore. "Seems the lady is the only one in shape. Shame on you boys."

"A bit pretentious don't you think? Calling me boy," said the much-aged Dumbledore.

"Not hardly," he replied. "You clearly do not know what I am but allow me to assure you. I am older than you could ever hope to be."

"Hah! What do you take us for?" Snape snapped, now that he had the wind.

"I take you for a childish fool," the blue man said. "I've led you around since the start and all you've done is follow, like a bleating sheep."

His wand trembled in a furiously shaking hand, but Dumbledore was glad to see he held it in. The man was right, he had led them all a merry chase and they, like children, had followed. They were now well away from the castle, from any reinforcements.

But, and it was a big 'but', they were not children.

Drawing his own wand, he stood next to Snape, motioning for McGonagall to join them. "You've had your fun," he addressed the blue man, "but now it is time to stop."

"Oh?"

"You say you have come to take my castle? You must know I will not give it up."

"Indeed," he said, "with all you have in there I should think not."

Inwardly he scowled at the reminder of how easily the blue man had infiltrated their fortress, outside his face remained perfectly neutral. "If you have come to fight then let us be about it. Though I would prefer you just leave us in peace."

"Peace is overrated," the blue man said flippantly, "and I will not leave. I have come for your castle and I will have it. If you will not surrender, I will simply take it."

"There's three of us," said Snape, bolder now that he did not stand alone.

"It doesn't matter. Three or three hundred, I will still take it."

A sudden heavy feeling filled Dumbledore's stomach, like his breakfast had turned to lead. It became only heavier when Snape said, "You and what army?" and he saw the smile that spread across the blue man's face.

"I was wondering when you'd say that."

Producing a small glass orb with an odd gesture of his hands, he turned and hurled it away from him toward the tree line.

The wind blasted when the orb exploded, tearing a rift in reality.

"It's so inconvenient dragging them around everywhere," he shouted over the howl of the wind. "I find it much easier just to open the door when I'm ready for them."

It clarified, the doorway I mean, as he spoke, and the three magic users could only stare as the first lines marched through. Feet pounded across ground twigged and leafed by the comings and goings of the woodcutters and farmers. Beating their own presence into the malleable earth as they formed up on the blue man, banners waving, armor glinting.

"Albus," said McGonagall weakly.

"I know," he replied, face as hard and unreadable as stone.

… Get the pig!

"Are you seeing this? You are seeing this, aren't you?"

"I'm seeing it Bill," Harry said. "You were right, she is rather comely."

Though comely is not a word he would normally use to describe someone, bit old fashioned, but it seemed to fit. The half goblin girl was comely, could even be considered cute if you wiped the soot off her face, the ash off her clothes and the cinders from her hair.

Her skin was a brownish color, dark caramel, while her hair was the color of soot, or may have just been full of soot, it was hard to tell at a distance.

Even not being told of her heritage it was easy to tell she was neither human nor Elwin. She shared a height with Bill while still having the proportions that spoke of being an adult and her ears were a touch longer than normal with just a bit of a point, something neither Harry nor Bill possessed.

The proportions of her face, size of the nose, the eyes, while placed in a fashion to be not unattractive, made it clear she got the good genes from her mother, who had taken the genes from her father and done things with them they never would have dreamed possible.

This was easy to see by the twenty points of comparison standing opposite her. Twenty green goblins with their pointed ears and pointy teeth. They weren't like the goblins Harry remembered, they were too tall, though still shorter than he. Gangly, scrawny, and each one holding some sort of weapon.

That was the first problem, and likely what Bill had been referring to when he asked if Harry was 'seeing this'.

Harry was seeing this, and more, or boar if you prefer. Another goblin, bigger than the others, in a tarnished breastplate and helmet, sitting atop the boar holding a fancy looking club, threateningly pointed at the half goblin girl.

That was the problem; 'the' problem.

They had come across the tableau upon reaching the edge of the trees some thirty or so yards from her home where they remained, unseen, observing.

"What do we do?" Bill asked.

"Wish I could hear what their saying," said Harry.

"The big one is demanding things," said Rosebud. "I know you have more, he says. I'm losing my patience, he says."

The two men stared, "You can hear them?" Harry asked, feeling stupid a moment later when he remembered who he was talking to.

"I've given you all I have, she says," Rosebud continued to relay. "I don't believe you, he says. You 'gotta' have more, he says. I live alone, I don't need that much, she says."

He clearly didn't believe her or didn't care which seemed more likely. They didn't need to hear what he was saying to see that, at least, Harry didn't. He knew a Dudley when he saw one; the boar rider was Dudley in green body paint with more than the usual number of lackeys.

He noticed too; the lackeys looked far less enthusiastic than their leader with the current activity, shifting about nervously, refusing to look directly at either the girl or their leader. It wouldn't take much to break their resolve, Harry thought.

"He's getting angry," said Rosebud.

"Wait," said Harry. "If he tries to attack her, we go. Send the wolves after the other goblins, I'll get her out of harm's way. We kill the rider the others will break and run."

"What should I do?" Bill asked.

But before Harry could answer the club was pulled back, hands were raised in defense, and there was no more time. "GO!"

Before they could blink, Harry was there, then Harry was not there.

The boar rider was equally shocked when his club passed through open air, and the momentum nearly threw him from his mount.

"WHAT! Huh? Where'd she go!"

Twenty feet away, 'she' was staring up at an unfamiliar face and trying very hard to fight down the rebellion in her stomach.

"Who—who are…" it was a hard fight that required all her concentration.

Anyway, there was little time for questions. The boar rider had just regained his balance and spotted them when a howl went up and Bill Baggs charged from the tree line, followed by a half dozen wolves. Then it was Bill following the wolves who brushed past the rider, startling the hog who flailed about like a bucking bronco.

The rider hung on for dear life, losing his club to grip his mount with both hands.

Bill, now charging alone, rushed the raging boar. His small sword gleamed in his hand, drawing the boar's attention, ceasing its thrashing for the briefest instant it took for Bill to drive the sword into its throat.

The thrashing recommenced; it's death flails hurling Bill like a sack of flour, and its rider like the second place at a rodeo.

The armored goblin rolled as he hit the ground, come to a stop upright and only slightly dazed. He snarled as his mount gave a final twitch and he quickly sought out someone to vent his anger on.

"Ready to give up."

Glaring at the scrawny man thing, he decided it would do. Snatching up his fallen club he bellowed a challenge and charged. The human had no time to react before he was on him, club held high came crashing down to crush the pitiful man creature.

Except, it didn't. Looking down at his empty hands which should have held a bloody club, the goblin marveled. Looking up, he saw his club floating just overhead.

"Now are you ready to give up."

The goblin snarled, "I'll flay you alive wizard! You and that stupid little bitch!"

The wizard flinch at his declaration, or something like that. It was mostly in the eyes, bright green, and glowing. "Is that so," he said.

Tired of standing, the goblin attempted to leap at the wizard, but found his legs would not respond. He looked down and discovered, to his shock, he was turning gray, and stiff; stiff as stone.

The transfiguration was progressive but quick, taking the head last which attempted to shriek in horror, realizing in its final instant what was happening; then its only thought was the eternal thought of marble and granite.

The other goblins, surrounded by growling wolves, watched the wizard retrieve their leaders club, reel back, and swing for the fences. The ugly stone head flew a majestic arc, disappearing into the bushes.

His work done, he turned to them, "How bout the rest of you?"

Weapons thudded to the ground, followed by goblin knees, then goblin heads.

"I think that means they surrender," said Rosebud, strolling up to join him.

"Gee thanks, I never would have guessed."

… Mono a mono

"Sweet Merlin! They just keep coming."

Row on row they marched in perfect formation, the blue man's army. As McGonagall said, they just kept coming, never breaking stride, never stepping out of line. No thrown together horde but a professional army. Dumbledore marveled at the diversity.

The front ranks were stocky dwarves, led by their banner man, shield and spear, phalanx units. Behind them came dog like men Dumbledore did not know, marching with trained precision, gripping the pair of short swords belted around their waists, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

Behind those came a single line of tall goat-legged men, satyrs, each carrying some sort of long heavy weapon, bearded axes, poleaxes, one even carried a large wooden mallet. And behind these, the most worrisome units, golems. Twenty rows of stone men marched in mechanical lockstep, the last of them stepping through just as the portal sealed shut.

"Impossible," Snape cowered.

"There must be a thousand of them," McGonagall whispered.

Twelve hundred, he'd counted them as they came through. Twelve hundred… and three. And it was those three that worried him the most. They were the only ones mounted of the entire group, wearing ornate robes, and carrying long staves with bejeweled heads.

It had been a long time since wizards had used such things, at least according to their history. Looking at the three mounted magic users, it was clear they had not fallen out of fashion everywhere.

"So, what do you think of my army?"

Snape, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say, though his lip did curl like he'd tasted something sour. This greatly amused the blue skin man. "I thought as much. You can always tell a lot about someone by the way they run their mouth when they think they've got the advantage. And what about you 'old' man? Impressed?"

"They appear, most exemplary," he felt no harm in admitting.

"Bit smaller a force than I usually travel with, but needs must be met," he said conversationally. "Back to the matter at hand, my castle. I am, at this time, prepared to accept your unconditional surrender, if you should like to be giving it—hint, hint."

Yes, big hint, twelve hundred big. "I cannot."

"Really!"

"Your army is great, but my responsibility is greater," said Dumbledore. "I cannot—I will not abandon them."

"Them, yes, your castle full of children," the blue man said through a frustrated scowl. "You must know, even if you beat us back, it will not go easy for them."

His own visage darkened at the none too subtle threat, "They are children."

"Which makes them soft targets, wouldn't you agree."

He would, which is exactly why he felt his ire rising. "I will not let you."

"You have no choice. I take no pleasure in slaughter. It is a useless waste and I did not come here for corpses. I will have that castle, and all those within it. All who resist will die. Now, I say again, surrender."

"No." He couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it.

And the blue man could see his mind would not be changed, "Stubborn fool," he said. "But if that is to be your choice, I offer a compromise."

"Compromise," it couldn't be. After demanded unconditional surrender, he now spoke of compromise. It had to be a trick.

"You claim responsibility, you claim you will not surrender. I must then assume you are prepared to die upholding this responsibility."

"If I must," though I'd rather not, he left unsaid, gripping his wand in preparation.

"Then let us do this like gentleman," the blue man said, gesturing to one of the wizards who tossed him a large curved blade, a scimitar. "We shall fight, you and I. If I win, your castle and its inhabitants are mine."

"And if I win?" said Dumbledore.

"My army will leave."

"Your army, but what of you?"

"If I lose, I will be dead," he said simply. "Was that not clear? This will of course be a fight to the death."

Ah, there it was, "To the death, like civilized men."

"Indeed," he said, drawing his sword and tossing the sheath aside, "civilized men."

"Albus!" McGonagall cast him a pleading look, but what could he do?

"Very well, I accept your challenge."

"Excellent. Feel free to fetch your weapon, I'll wait."

Drawing back his sleeve, he pointed his wand, "This will do."

The blue man shrugged, leaning the curved blade on his shoulder, "By your leave."

He didn't attack straight away. He had not the young man's daring, nor speed, nor stamina. He knew next to nothing about his enemy while his enemy almost certainly knew something about him. He was at a complete disadvantage and he knew it.

He started slow, slow and small. The one thing he did know was his opponent was quick and light on his feet. The stunner was never expected to hit him, nor the follow up, or the half dozen after that; they did not disappoint.

The blue skinned man danced around his spells like it were the ballet, slowly moving in closer till he was within dashing distance. His speed surprised the old wizard, his sword slicing through the air so recently occupied.

"You are fast," said Dumbledore, now twenty feet away. "But so am I."

He forwent simple stunners for a stunning whip he lashed at the sword wielder. Whips, as anyone who knows anything will tell you, are difficult weapons, both to wield and dodge. The stun whip struck like a serpent, sending up bits of the earth as it missed again and again to connect with its target.

Such was not all for naught as he drove him to a position he could not dance around. The whip snaked to strike at his calves and the blue man leapt into the air. The whip followed, glancing off his sword to no effect. His feet had only touched the ground when the sword leapt from his hands like a vertical boomerang, flying at Dumbledore.

Another apparation saved him a skewering but also cost him his whip and the blue man was already on the move to retrieve his sword.

A barrage of inconveniencing spells flew in rapid succession, exploding small patches of the earth with unutilized magic. The sword was collected without issue and the swift stride readjusted toward Dumbledore.

Finally understanding his opponent was too quick for such point and shoot magic, he turned to his true strength, raising the ground up in an earthen wall, followed by row after row of spikes when the blue man tried to scale it.

Flipping away from the impaling implement, he tried to go around only to find a pair of angry dogs waiting. Without so much as blinking he dispatched the beasts and continued forward.

Dumbledore vanished to the other side of the wall, wrapping it around his opponent who escaped out the top just before he was able to close it, flinging his sword again and forcing Dumbledore to abandon his work for another new location.

By some unspoken agreement there was a brief pause. The blue man collecting his sword while Dumbledore collected his breath. It had been years since he'd done that much casting so quickly. Few realized just how taxing it could be performing magic at such a velocity.

"I feel I owe you an apology," the blue man said, surprising Dumbledore. "I underestimated you."

"You wouldn't be the first," Dumbledore replied, which was entirely true. His most historic victory had been just that.

"But I shall be the last," he said, "and with that in mind, I shall cease holding back."

A bolt of pure energy flew from his hand, smashing like a battering ram against a shield raised just in the nick of time.

A sudden flux of temperature was all the warning he had to fuel an instinct driven apparition that saved him from the ring of frost that turned a small circle into a frozen funeral.

The blue man was on him almost before his apparition was complete, running at him while leading with yet another spell, a focused bolt of cold that exploded in a burst of snow against his shield.

A half-formed wall caught the sword before the sword caught him, but the boot was faster than the wand and he was sent sprawling to the ground with an ominous crack and an agonizing wince.

Fighting through the pain he vanished again before the sword could be freed. He felt it again as he reappeared but fought it down, knowing far worse was in store if he didn't. And far worse was coming again, he lashed out without thought.

The flame whip pushed the blue man back in acrobatic flips, ducking, dodging, narrowly avoiding with a precision that defied belief. If he'd been able to feel things like discouragement he would have been crushed, but in the midst of casting there was no feeling except magic. Magic and cold.

Another ring of frost shortened his whip and the blue man rushed in, his hand sparking with a sort of power Dumbledore knew would be fatal if it hit him.

The whip was abandoned for a shield that lit up like Christmas when the lightning bolt stuck. He tried to hold it, but something was wrong. His arms felt weak, and his neck felt odd.

He looked at the blue man for some indication. The golden eyes gave away nothing. His scimitar, edged in red, sat casually on his shoulder.

Words attempted to form, but the wind would not pass his lips, then quite suddenly he was moving, the world around him spun, then he was looking straight up, straight up at his own self, sans head. It was a most befuddling moment.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The attack from behind was expected. He didn't know what the words meant, didn't know what the green light would do it if touched him, and he had no intention of finding out at that moment. The spell flew harmless past his shoulder, and his sword flew far from harmless into the greasy looking man's chest where it remained, till he went and pulled it out.

"I suspect he thought himself very clever for doing that," the blue man remarked to the elderly witch who stood gob smacked at the sudden and efficient use of violence.

He allowed her a time to collect herself while he cleaned his sword, collected his sheath, and returned the weapon to its case. "Now, if you'd like to take your shot let us be about it. If not, perhaps you'd like to show me my castle."

… Who's the boss

"Truly, truly a strange day," Bill mused, sipping from his teacup in a distracted manor.

"Probably best not to think about," Harry said, tending the spit, then turning to tend the other one.

"I'm usually very adaptable, you know," the small man said, "but everything is happening so fast today. It's hard to keep up."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "gotta light your ass on fire just so you don't fall behind."

He'd never had prisoners before. Technically speaking, it didn't feel like he had them now either, though the surrendered goblins had assured him that is what they were. He hadn't felt like arguing, so he let Gabby, the half-goblin girl, and Rosebud figure it out.

He should have known this was a foolish thing to do. Rosebud alone was far to persnickety for his own good, and even knowing nothing about Gabby, she was still female. And the sort of female comfortable living alone in the middle of nowhere.

The sort of person who could do that was not to be trifled with. So, he didn't and left the two overbearing females to deal with his 'prisoners'.

His mistake became apparent when one of the goblins, followed by the two females, approached him holding the dead leaders club which he offered up in a distinctly ceremonial fashion.

Knowing not what else to do, Harry accepted the club, and this was where he realized he was in trouble. The goblins yipped and hooted excitedly, joined by the wolves which did likewise.

"What did I just do?" he asked the smirking vampire.

"Some sort of custom," she said flippantly. "You want to explain it to him."

"It's nothing so difficult to understand," said Gabby. "You killed the former leader. By accepting his weapon you've claimed by right of combat all that was his. In this case, them."

The goblins, hooting excitedly.

"Huh?"

"You're the boss," she simplified.

But his brain still could not comprehend, "Huh?"


	26. Chapter 25

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 25 – To the victor go the spoils

…

Warm, quiet, what novel concepts. He almost didn't recognize them having spent so long in the wilderness. The blanket wasn't much but it was still a blanket and when you were used to sleeping in the hollows of trees, even a pitiful thin sheet was luxurious bliss.

The wetness spoiled his bliss somewhat. Cold and wet, and panting.

He cracked an eye, finding a large black nose rubbing his cheek, and a big lolling tongue closer than he really liked. The black wolf, seeing his eye open, withdrew slightly, whimpering and glancing back and forth between him and the door meaningfully.

"Don't wanna," Harry groaned.

But the dog was determined. He sat down and stared at the wizard in that way dogs do. I am willing to sit here for as long as this takes, the look said, also, if you don't get moving soon, I'm going to grab ahold of something and start pulling till you do.

He had an infuriatingly expressive face for a canine, and he placed the blame squarely on Rosebud for the sass.

Moaning, groaning, and just generally making clear his annoyance at having to get up and do stuff, Harry crawled from beneath the blanket and placed his feet on the hard wood floor.

The wolf didn't understand, none of them did, and why would they? They wouldn't, they couldn't. He had to get up, he knew he did, there were reasons. Twenty of them to be precise, and he had no idea what he was going to do with any of them.

"Is it too late to get back into bed?"

The wolf whined and gently grabbed his hand with its mouth.

Sigh, "Dammit."

… Survey my holdings

"You know, when they decided to call this the 'Great' hall, I feel they really hit the nail on the head, don't you think so Minerva?"

Minerva, McGonagall, made a general sound of agreement, using her food as a shield from having to say real words. Real words were only likely to get her in trouble in her current frame of mind, small, square, with a little prop on the back so you could set it on your desk.

All around the students watched Co, the blue skinned man who they'd been introduced to the previous evening, along with his retinue of wizards, and several hundred armed warriors. Their apprehension was not only to be expected, it would have been strange if they weren't afraid.

They had, for all intents and purposes, been conquered. The fact that only two people had died in the invasion was a small blessing, but it didn't change the fact that things had changed quite dramatically, yet again, in a very short period of time, yet again.

She only prayed no one would do anything reckless, and she glanced at the Gryffindor table to make sure.

"Well, now that we've broken the fast. I believe there was a tour promised."

He had an interesting memory. He had been the one to promise she would give him a tour. She had said nothing of the sort, which really didn't matter and they both knew it. If your new tyrant says jump, you do it. It doesn't matter how nicely he says it, and this one did say it nicely.

Nice, seemed to be the best word to describe Co, she thought. He was nice, or, she reminded herself, he appeared nice. She had yet to properly square how he'd killed Dumbledore, though she could readily accept that Snape had it coming.

It was difficult coming to terms with the blue skinned man who'd killed one of her oldest and dearest friends, and held her own life in the palm of his hand, with the genial gabber that strode the halls looking at everything with awe and wonder.

"I thought you had already been inside the castle?" she asked, confused at his behavior.

"It looks very different from this perspective," he said. "You tend to look down on things from the birds eye view, you know."

"Not really. My animal form is a cat," she said without thinking.

"Really? Your people can do that?"

She cursed inwardly, she hadn't intended to offer information, "It can be learned," she said. "It is very advanced transfiguration."

"Trans fig you ray shun," he sounded out. "This is, the art of transformation then?"

"Yes it is," she said shortly.

"Hmm. Interesting. Never heard it called that before. I can see we'll have to go over terminology at some point in the near future. Ah, good morning children."

McGonagall flinched when she spotted the 'children' in question. It just would have to be them.

"Good morning sir."

"Good morning sir."

"A lovely good morning to you sir."

Co chuckled at the enthusiastic greeting, "Ah yes, the loquacious lizard, how could I forget."

The adventurous trio stared in confusion.

"Have we met before?" Wizard asked.

"In a matter of speaking," the blue man said. "I am glad to see you found your way back to the castle before dark."

Three lights went on simultaneously, "You were the bird!" shouted Dakota first, setting the blue man off again.

"Indeed," he laughed, "well done."

"Why did you help us," asked Laurel, trying not to sound ungrateful.

"Not that we don't appreciate it," said Wizard, trying much harder.

"Let's just say I have soft spot for the adventurous sort," said the blue man, winking like he was sharing a great secret with them.

She would admit this much, his disarming personality was an effective weapon. Listening to him talk made you want to talk as well and for someone prone to talking, like Dakota, the trick would be getting her to stop.

"An armory you say."

"Oh yes. The door was hidden but that's where we found Wizard here. Only we didn't really find him, we had to get one of the giant spiders to find him."

"You have giant spiders?"

"Three of them. Toragog, Noragog, and Marigold. That's the girl one."

"I never would have guessed, but back to that armory. Is it very full?"

"Packed."

"Really?"

McGonagall rubbed her forehead and stifled a groan. She knew he'd find out eventually. She didn't know why she thought she could hide it. Still, following behind the excitable children and equally excitable blue skinned man, she couldn't help feeling dreadfully circumvented.

… Wot is it?

"You ever seen anything like it?"

"I ave."

"No you ain't, don't lie."

"Oo says I's lyin!"

"I does ya ruddy liar!"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!"

The small gaggle of dwarves jumped like naughty schoolboys. "We didn't do nothing."

The stout woman in the tall hat gave them a look that expressed a level of disbelief none of them was comfortable with.

"And just what do you lot think you 'are' doing?"

Such a question asked by such a woman, and with her arms crossed, wasn't really a question so much as an accusation. The sort of accusation young boys and bachelors often got when they are found loafing around when they should be doing other things.

"Nothing," a traditional answer to such a 'question', and traditionally the wrong answer, by tradition.

"Well perhaps you aught to be doing something," though worded like a suggestion, it was not.

The dwarves grumbled and scuffed their feet but the sight of one eyebrow raising sent them scurrying for work, as far away from the angry mother woman as possible.

"Humph! No good layabouts."

"You get some in every army."

Pomona Sprout did not flinch from the wizard, walking up to her with his fancy staff, stroking the long bit of hair coming out his chin. She did not give away her unease at the mans presence, letting it scurry behind her maternal like outrage where it could easily hide.

"You in charge of that lot then?"

"Not that lot, no," he replied, admiring the massive crystal. "Where did you get this?"

"Pulled it out of the field," said Sprout. "Wrecked our plow when we found it. The Headmaster—the, the headmaster was, examining it."

"Examining what exactly?"

"You can't use magic on it," she said, re-firming the grip on her self-control. "Everything magic we tried to use on it just slid off. Had to cast on the ground around it to get it out of the hole."

"Fascinating." Raising his staff, it flashed briefly, whatever magic he summoned splashing against the stone and quickly dissipating. "Terribly fascinating. Swear I've heard of something like this before. But where are my manners? My name is Hectorus."

"Pomona Sprout," said the once professor of Herbology. "And if you'll excuse me."

"What are you up to then?" he asked, trotting along beside her.

"I've got fields to tend. Food isn't going to grow itself," she said, unsure how to feel about the man following her and settling on annoyed.

"Yes, I saw those when we got here yesterday. The weather must be good up here. They look to be farther along than I would have expected for the time of year."

Pomona allowed herself a little grin, "Well, that's magic, ain't it. Another three weeks they'll be almost ready to harvest then we can start all over again. Have to with all them mouths to feed," and she let that statement hang just so he understood who she was blaming for that.

He chose to ignore it, "It's magic you say. So, it speeds the growing, but what about water, and the health of the soil."

"Water's easy, big salt marsh not far from here, taps into the sea or ocean or something," no one had yet gone out far enough to find out. "The soil is a problem though," she admitted. "Ain't got proper fertilizer, nor anything to make it. Might be able to dredge something from that marsh but what we could really use is a good mount a fish."

"Fish?"

"Fish. Don't even need the good stuff, just grind up the chum. Lots of good nutrients in fish. Around here all we can get is dung, and only the kind that comes from us, and that's always been a bit questionable, health wise."

"If you like I can have my horse do his business in your field. I'm sure he won't mind."

The plant professor looked at the wizard with the staff, unsure what to think. He was an invader, she reminded herself, but as invasions went, it wasn't turning out so bad thus far.

… Don't be stupid

"I am not being stupid!"

"You are absolutely being stupid! You're going to get yourself killed and the rest of us along with you."

"Oy, quit yur shoutin."

"Yeah, it's a library you know."

Hermione blushed at the twins chastisement but her glare never left the other ginger. "Would you two please explain to your brother the suicidal absurdity of what he is claiming we should do."

"I never said we should!" he decried. "Just thinking out loud is all."

"If you have to do it out loud."

"It isn't really thinking.

"Ah, shove off you two. I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"Only talking about attacking Co," Hermione hissed quietly.

The twins goggled, " "Are you bloody mad?" "

Backed into the figurative corner what could he say, "And when did you all turn into such bloody cowards."

"He has an army," said Hermione. "Can you understand that? Not a bunch of children with wands but a real army. Do you know what a real army is for Ronald?"

"Do you know what this is for," he fired back, holding up his deadly weapon.

"Shoving up your arse," said Fred.

"If you don't put it away, now," said George.

"I don't believe you. You see one army and you let him walk all over you."

"Last I checked," twin one.

"He wasn't walking over anyone," twin two.

"Try tellin that to Dumbledore!"

No retort came to that.

"It—it was a fair fight. McGonagall said so," Hermione tried to justify.

"Yeah, while our new overlord was standing right next to her. Bet he made her say that."

"And what if he did?" said Fred.

"What?"

"And what if he did?" George repeated. "What would you have had us do?"

"We could have fought!" Ron shouted.

"And we could have died!"

"And for what?"

The twins glared down their brother who glared back fuming.

"You're a bunch of bloody cowards."

"Is it really bravery to run towards a pointless death?"

The question, so smoothly spoken, made Ron's lip curl even further, "What do you want, Slytherin?"

The perfectly polished Anna DeWinter returned his heated glare with a stare as frigid as ice.

"A little quiet perhaps. We are in a library."

Stubborn to a fault, Ron was fully prepared to drag the argument on indefinitely. However, some part of his brain had catalogued the fact that he was not only outnumbered four to one, but that those who should have been on his side were not, and did not look to be changing that any time soon. A tactical retreat was initiated.

"Nice to see him is such high spirits," said Anna once Ron was gone.

"I hope he doesn't do anything foolish," said Hermione, watching him storm out the doors.

"I'm almost certain everything he does is foolish," said Anna. "Even the way he breathes."

The brothers of said breather snorted, "While we may agree with this."

"He is still our brother, you will remember."

"On a separate note."

"Is there something we can do for you."

"Not at the present, though let it not slip your mind that I had considered such a proposition," she said, sliding them a look that suggested several fun and inappropriate activities they would likely never get to engage in, though just the fact she would suggest them drew a chuckle.

"Were you looking for something then?" asked Hermione, who had not been partial to the part of the conversation not spoken aloud.

"I don't suppose you have a spare dose of sanity sitting around?" the older girl asked.

"Not around here," Hermione mumbled, not as quietly as she intended.

"The world just keeps hitting us," said Fred.

"Boom, boom, POW!" said George.

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," she grinned, "but it does make the point. Which I think leads us to one obvious conclusion."

"And what's that?" said Hermione when Anna didn't continue.

"Why haven't we learned to duck?"

… Hi ho puppy, away!

"Okay, I know I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, Rosebud does it, so why shouldn't they? But still."

Sitting beside him Bill could only grin. "It's not unheard of. Back home the goblins were a bit bigger and so were the beasts. Wargs, they called them."

"I still can't believe it. Which one of them got the idea into their head first? That's what I'd like to know."

"Probably that one," said Bill, pointing to the only goblin currently sitting on a wolf who wasn't trying to throw him off.

"Stands to reason I suppose," even if he couldn't find the reason.

He didn't know why, or how, and only vaguely when, but his new 'minions' had taken it upon themselves to learn how to ride the wolves. The wolves, who were not under his command any more than Rosebud was under his command, saw the whole process as some sort of game.

"At least nobody's gotten eaten yet."

"Probably helps you've fed them all."

And he'd been wondering how he was ever going to get rid of all that meat.

"I feel like I should be doing something with them, you know. Like, training them, or something."

Bill nodded, "They do look like they could use some training. You know how to use any of those weapons?"

"Nope," though that was probably less of a hinderance than it seemed because neither did they, as he had learned.

They were all young goblins, recruited by the big one on the pig because they were there and had no better prospects. Now they had him, which it could be argued was not much of an improvement.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know Bill," he said as another goblin got rolled over by a playful wolf, "but I gotta do something. I just hope I don't screw it up."


	27. Chapter 26

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 26 – Here's what we're going to do

…

Time flies when you are having fun, or so the conventional wisdom says. But what about when you're not having fun, like when you're bored, or depressed, or panicked. Funny how conventional wisdom doesn't have much to say on that.

It was now a week since his arrival, and to many a shock, no one had died.

Not since crash landing in another world had the residents of Hogwarts been in such a tizzy. For many this change of leadership had been only a minor shift from their default state. Some had adapted quickly to the new paradigm, others were still in the process, while some were refusing to even try.

Minerva McGonagall had not been given a choice. She stood behind Co, to the right, as the prefects filed in. On his left, Dolores Umbridge wore a secret little smile the once transfiguration professor desperately wanted to claw off her face.

Much as she hated to admit it, out of everyone in the castle Umbridge had adapted the quickest. She'd spent all week popping up at every opportunity to ingratiate herself with their new ruler. It had been funny at first, watching the bigoted woman try her level best not to let slip something blatantly offensive.

She'd been sure the blue man had seen right through the unctuous troll, till she walked into the antechamber off the great hall and found her standing there looking impossibly smug. It had required all her years of dealing with the various outrages conjured by naughty students to hold her tongue. She'd very nearly bit it.

"So glad you could all find time to join me today," the master of Hogwarts started. "I trust you all know why you are here."

It would be quite an accomplishment if they did since he'd never given a reason in his summons.

"I suspect it has something to do with our positions at Hogwarts," said Anna DeWinter.

"Very good miss…"

"DeWinter. Anna DeWinter."

"DeWinter—how oddly appropriate. Pray, what is your position, Miss DeWinter?"

"I am one of the seventh-year prefects of Slytherin house. This was to be my last year at Hogwarts."

"Oh, really. And how was that going for you?"

"Not as well as I could have hoped," she said. "I had expected to be Head girl. Sadly, the position went to someone more, unobtrusive."

A simple enough word, unobtrusive, in the right context and proper tone becomes a truly stinging insult. She didn't bother to name the one it was aimed at, that would have been tasteless, and anyway she had no need to. She identified herself with her trembling cower and humiliated blush.

The seventh year Hufflepuff looked ready to cry. Co did not appear to notice, the girl sitting directly to his left.

"Probably for the best anyway. All of you are about to very unobtrusive. While I'm sure Minerva would thank you for your service, I must now inform you it will no longer be required. Your positions, in fact the entire system upon which they were predicated, is hereby dissolved."

"What!"

"You can't!"

And other outraged exclamations were made, and allowed to be made, till he grew bored of them, "Thank you all for your time. You are dismissed."

Several chairs were knocked over in the process of leaving, others squeaking in less forceful protest. One however remained unmoving.

"Was there something you needed Ms. DeWinter?"

"I was just wondering, with regards to the duties performed by the 'former' prefects. Concerns to security and such. Who will be performing these now if I may ask?"

"You may in fact," he said genially. "From what I have observed there has been too much unnecessary overlap in several areas and a gross mismanagement of resources, in particular with regards to manpower. I have instructed Dolores to disband the defense force she was leading to free its members up for more useful tasks. My men are in more than sufficient quantity to perform such basic duties, in fact, I have been informed by one Pomona Sprout that several of them are in desperate need of such duty to prevent them from, and I quote 'loafing about'."

The Slytherin girl gave a small grin, "Is that so? Professor Sprout?"

"Indeed. Matronly woman. Good organizer. We've already had a long discussion on the future of her farming efforts. An army marches on its stomach is it not said."

"That's how you know it's made of men."

Minerva blanched at such a blatant remark, but Co only laughed, "A remarkable insight Miss DeWinter. Will there be anything else?"

"No sir."

"Then I bid you, good day," he said with a slight bow.

She returned a polite curtsy then retreated from the room.

"Hm, charming girl."

"You think so," said Minerva, fighting to bring her heartbeat back down to normal.

"And a leader if I'm not mistaken. She has that kind of aura."

"A fine example of Slytherin house," said Umbridge, making McGonagall grind her teeth.

"Hm. Well, anyway. I'll see the two of you back her after lunch," he said and strode from the room.

After lunch they had another meeting, this one with the various project groups they'd come across in their weeklong survey. After word got around about this meeting, well, Fred and George were to be involved. That worried her on the best of days.

"Nice isn't it, to have a proper leader in charge," said Umbridge offhandedly.

"Excuse me!"

The toad smiled, a smug punchable expression, "He was never really suited to it you know. Should have retired years ago."

She didn't say the name but there was really no need to. Dumbledore, of course it was Dumbledore. "And I suppose you think you would have done better."

She was being baited; it was childishly obvious. So why was she allowing herself to rise to it?

The toad like woman gave her a look she probably intended to be intimidating, "If I had been in charge, I can assure you, things would not have deteriorated the way they did."

McGonagall bit back a snarl as the stout woman in the ugly pink cardigan trotted from the room like she was holding something between her ass cheeks. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she swore then and there, if the opportunity arose, she was going to kill the little toad.

… Cut, cut, chop

"Left, right, thrust, again. Left, right, thrust, good!"

He was forced to take the small man's word on that. It didn't feel good. His hands were raw, his shoulders were screaming, and his back ached like an arthritic centenarian. Who knew learning to use a sword would be so much work?

Well, anyone who's ever used a sword, naturally.

"Did I tell you to stop!"

When he'd asked Bill to teach him, he hadn't expected the little man to turn into the drill instructor from hell. He also hadn't expected his minions to quickly start imitating him, thus dragging them into the training as well. That he didn't mind so much.

They'd been looking to him for leadership ever since he killed their last leader, even given him the clothes and armor their leader had worn as a sort of symbolic gesture. The breastplate didn't fit, but the vest he'd worn under it did.

He was wearing it too, being without a shirt like he was. Though that's not to say he hadn't cleaned it ten or twenty times first. Gabby had seemed disappointed by that, which confused him. But then, a lot of things about Gabby confused him.

"Guard up! No slacking!"

Why guard, the dummy wasn't going to attack him.

His training log was looking well chunked, and if he hadn't been feeling similarly, he might have found some sense of satisfaction at his achievement. It was in there somewhere, probably, hiding under the woodchips.

"Alright, that's good. Break time!"

Harry happily collapsed to the ground.

The chuckling Elwin plopped down next to him and pulled out his pipe, "I see we are absorbing the lesson adequately."

He left room for a clever response, scathing remark, or grunt of acknowledgement. Harry hadn't the energy for any of those and just groaned weakly, making the Elwin chuckle through his pipe.

"Wouldn't have expected you'd be the first to fall."

Fires of outrage sparked briefly, sending a small jolt to the battery, "If I were using magic I wouldn't be," he would have known was a weak defense if there'd been enough energy to power a thought process rather than just the mouth.

"Not familiar with that sort a magic," said Bill, pausing to take a long puff. "Course, I've only known a couple wizards. Never been one myself."

"M'not surprised," he slurred, realizing he was going to have a conversation whether he wanted to or not. "It's something I learned from a book, just a couple months ago. They didn't teach this magic at Hogwarts."

"Ah, yes, your wizard school."

Stories of Hogwarts and his time in it had filled the late evenings for the past week, too tired to do things but not tired enough to sleep. The goblins seemed especially impressed by his various exploits. He really couldn't figure out why.

"So, why didn't you use it?"

"It's called enhancement magic," Harry explained. "It can't make me a swordsman. It might make me swing harder but that's not going to make me any better any faster."

"That is true," the small man agreed. "Funny you caught that. Most people wouldn't."

"Don't think so?"

The Elwin laughed, "Do you really doubt?"

Harry thought about it, "No." He could see a Ron or Seamus or Dean just going at it with all their strength and no idea what they were doing but a sense of certainty they could find a way to muscle through.

"Technique," said Bill, "will always overcome brute force. I never had much brute force to begin with. Even the dwarves who taught me were stronger than I was, if not much bigger."

"So that's not just your bias talking Bill?"

The Elwin grinned through his pipe, "Maybe a little."

Harry laughed; he liked the small man. He had an easygoing nature that wormed its way into your good graces without you even noticing.

"It's been a long journey for me, ever since that day I walked out my front door," he said, adopting a distant look, like he was somewhere far away, far in time and far in space. "I've seen so many things. Fought more than a few of them. It's been quite the adventure, oh yes it has."

"Did you ever want to go back?" A thing he'd wondered himself several times since walking out the front door.

"I did once," said Bill. "It wasn't the same, even though everything was the same. It was all still there, every bit in its proper place, just like I left it. But it felt different. I was different." This brought him back to the present and he tapped out his pipe on his heel. "Of course, then I fell through that portal and wound up here and it became something of a moot point."

"Mm. Hate it when that happens."

"That ya do," he agreed. "Hate it when they refuse to fall down too," he gestured at Harry's wood chunked training pole, still standing defiant.

"Just don't know when to quit," Harry groused. "Bah! I'll get him next time."

"Probably want to have Gabby look that over now that you've dulled it on there."

The sword, one of the half goblins own creations, was a fairly simple short sword, which made it almost half again as long as Bills custom 'short' sword. Simple though it was, he thought it was nice, and rather sweet of her to give it to him.

"Do they really dull that quickly?"

"Depends how you use'em. They weren't made to be choppers."

And that's all he'd been using it for. "Might as well finish this guy then."

Hauling himself upright, he approached his decimated pole, let the enhancement flow over him, then, in a single stroke, cleaved it in two.

"Not bad."

Not good either, "I felt that," said Harry, looking worriedly at his sword.

"Well, you may have been stronger, but it wasn't."

And he immediately felt stupid for such an obvious lapse, "I could make it stronger, duh! I need to try that again."

They'd set up numerous poles for their training and he selected one that had yet been used. Taking a moment to feel out the blade and apply the enhancement before throwing the cleaving stroke.

"What! Hey!"

It didn't go quite as planned and Bill fell over laughing as he fought to unwedge his weapon.

"See, this is what I meant about technique over force," the Elwin chortled. "Also, about dulling the blade. Don't spose you've got a spell for that."

He didn't, but as he was sort of stuck, he took a moment to consider something else. If the enhancement could strengthen the blade overall, was there a way to hone the edge? Blocking out the chortling mirth behind him, he let his aura slide over the weapon for a more in-depth scan, the precursor to enhancement.

Bill was finally giggled out, when the blade shifted, then slipped through the wood like a scissor through paper.

"Oh!"

He tested his new edge on two more training poles, finding them able to give no more resistance than the first. "Interesting. I never thought to try that before."

"I guess we're all lucky you're such a dumdum or we'd be in trouble."

Harry laughed at the dispersion cast on his intelligence, but before he could continue the verbal sparring, one of his new minions came bounding out of the woods on the back of a wolf heading straight for him.

"Boss! BOSS!"

"I hate when they call me that," Harry grumbled.

"You wouldn't let them call you grand supreme master," Bill reminded.

"Boss it is. Wonder what he's all worked up about?"

"Maybe he found you someone else to conquer."

Harry glared down at the smirking little man, "Not funny Bill. Not funny."

… The Fred and George Weasley Midnight Variety Show

"And I believe that covers everything."

"Questions, comments, poorly considered threats?"

The whole room stared; some mouths hung open. Those less used to Fred and George were still trying to decipher what they'd just been told; they weren't getting far.

"I must say you two have been very busy," said Co who appeared to have followed the entire thing. "I trust you shall continue in this vein."

"Of course," the twins said in unison.

"I may have a project or two in mind as well at some point."

"We live to serve," the proclaimed dramatically.

"A little over the top, don't you think," said Hermione as the small group ambled back to the library.

"We like to keep them guessing," said Fred.

"Was all that you told him true? I mean, are you really working on, well… THAT!"

"You'll have to be more specific," said George.

"We're working on a lot of things," added Fred.

"Not even half of which we told our new overlord," finished George.

"You know that's dangerous," she scolded. "If he finds out…"

"He'll chop off our heads?"

"He might."

"Lucky for me I've got a spare," said Fred.

"I'm just holding it for him," said George.

"I'm being serious," she exclaimed quietly. If she'd learned nothing else at Hogwarts, there was a time and place to raise your voice. Anywhere your new overlord or his people might hear you was not it.

"We have taken the risks into consideration."

"Fret not. We have matters well in hand."

"I'm sure that's what Dumbledore thought too."

It was a low blow, but she was in no mood to play nice and she returned their looks with one of her own.

"That was not nice."

"Not nice at all."

"Well maybe if you'd listen," she snapped. "It may surprise you to know that I value your lives and do not wish to see them ended because you decided to get cocky."

The twins shared a look, the look was returned. Hermione Granger beamed from the cheeks when she became the meat in a ginger sandwich.

"We do appreciate it."

"You old mother hen."

"Oh, honestly."

The twins chuckled but it wasn't mean. She found herself chuckling as well.

"I mean it you know. Don't go doing anything stupid."

"Us?"

"Never."

"I mean it. This is not a game."

"On the contrary."

"Our dear Hermione."

"Life is a game."

"And we play to win."

"And cheat whenever possible," she added.

"That too."

"It's like she knows us."

… I'm sorry, say that again

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. I can't keep up. Did you just say you saw a group of 'lizard' men?"

The goblin nodded emphatically, "Whole bunches. They had lots of meat they was carrying. They is coming this way."

It seemed simple enough when spoken at regular speed, but he was still stuck on lizard men.

"They're not uncommon," said Rosebud, seeing his quandary. "Usually swamp dwellers. Probably a hunting party of some kind."

"Are there any swamps around here?"

"Not on this side of the ridge," Gabby said. "I've never been to the other side."

"They don't have to live in swamps, I was just saying they usually do," said Rosebud. "Anyway, they haven't done anything to us. I say we just let them pass."

"I agree," said Gabby. "No sense starting a fight with people we don't even know."

The goblin looked at the two women, the small man, then to his commander, "Boss?"

Harry thought. He thought hard because the subject would not settle for anything less. He was many things, had many feelings on these 'lizard' men. Curiosity for one. Just what the heck was a lizard man?

At the same time, he understood what Rosebud and Gabby meant. There was no reason to go fighting people they didn't need to fight. These weren't the Ashe. He had no grudge. But what about them. Why were they here? What was their purpose.

"The girls are right," he said at last. "There's no reason to go looking for a fight."

"Uh oh, he's agreeing with us," said Rosebud. "Here comes the but."

"But! that doesn't mean they aren't. We just don't know. So, I think a little reconnaissance is in order. Any objections?"


	28. Chapter 27

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 27 – Lizard, men

…

Through the forest a stealthy form moved. The green surrounded him, embraced him, caressing his scales like a tender friend. He was in a hurry. He had to hurry. The others were planning, but it would all come to naught. For what he had learned, he had to tell them. The plans they were planning, they couldn't, they mustn't. He had to hurry.

He arrived at the clearing to find them hoisting their packs, heavy with meat.

"Where are you going?"

They looked at him like he were a fool.

"We go that way," one pointed back the way he had come. "Did we not just send you to scout the path one last time? What have you been doing?"

The one who taunted him was Hazzak, two years his senior though this meant little. It was the first hunt for both of them which was how their tribe measured such things as adult and child.

"We must not," he exclaimed. "We must not fight them. We cannot win."

"Cannot win! What foolishness is this!" cried Hazzak.

"There are twenty of the green skins, and half a dozen wolves," he said.

"What are green skins but ugly pelts," Hazzak scoffed to a general nod of consensus.

"There is more. A frail looking human girl child. She hides under an umbrella."

"And this we should fear!"

"I said she looks, but I do not believe she is. I do not believe she is human," he said. "She smells of blood and death and the wolves obey her as though they understand her words."

"Stupid animals she has trained, what of it?"

"There is more," he carried on. "The small man, he has been teaching them. The smith girl has given them weapons."

"All the more for us after we kill them," Hazzak boasted.

"You will not kill them," he said. "Because the wizard will kill you all."

The group flinched back, hissing the word 'wizard'. Magic was not unknown to them, though there were no practitioners among their tribe. It was for this reason they feared the wizard. Lacking magic of their own, they had no way to counter his magic.

"You're lying," said Hazzak.

"You dare!" he exclaimed.

He didn't really mean it, but he could not back down now after such a long string of boasts. He would not back down, because it was he, Harrack, he was speaking to. He had no fear of Harrack, who had barely been chosen for this hunt, who he scoffed at and scorned every step of the journey. Even if the wizard would appear before them, Hazzak would scoff.

Hamma did not scoff, nor did he boast; he towered, he loomed. The two youngest members of the hunting party bent their necks, staring at the ground, a gesture of humility and submission. He was the leader of the hunt, its Chief. Twice again as big as the largest in the group he was calm at all points till it was time to kill.

He looked down at them now with an icy stare, level, even.

"Harrack."

"Yes, Hamma."

"You have seen this wizard?" the chief asked.

"Yes Hamma."

"What did you make of him? Is he capable? Is he strong? What magics did he use?"

He could feel Hazzak's scorn even as he examined the dirt at his feet. It thrilled him a bit, a feeling he put aside as he gave his report. "It was not like anything I have ever heard of. He spoke to the little man, made mention of a school where he learned. Then he took the sword he had been practicing with and sliced the training dummy into pieces."

"This was magic?" the chief wondered. "It seems more a feat of strength, yes?"

"It would, but he glowed as he did it. Glowing lines traced across his limbs, and his sword stuck fast in the first one. He could not remove it, he struggled. Then he paused, performing some mysticism, then gently pushed it the rest of the way through as though through water. He did this with several others before he stopped."

"I see."

Saying no more, Hamma sat, adopting a thoughtful position where he remained for some time. The others, seeing there would be a wait, dropped their cargo and stretched out to wile away the time till their leader had decided on their next course of action.

"You just had to ruin it," Hazzak cursed at him quietly. "We were finally going to get moving and you do this."

"Hold your tongue Hazzak," he cursed back. "What I have done is save us all."

"Pfft, so highly you think yourself," he replied. "Were it me I would have simply killed the wizard and brought his corpse back as a trophy."

His tail lashed back and forth as the fires of anger stoked higher. These fires were murdered by the icy chill that froze him to the spot when an unknown voice addressed the comment.

"Is that a fact?"

A great scurrying of feet and flashing of teeth followed the peculiar introduction as all and one turned to confront the interloper, all but one. Unperturbed, Hamma raised his head slightly to address the dark-haired human with the golden rings glowing around flashing green eyes.

"You are the wizard?" the man nodded. "How interesting," said Hamma. "I saw you sitting in the tree, watching us just now. Only you weren't a wizard, you were a squirrel."

"It's a little thing I do," said the wizard flippantly.

"Interesting." Hamma often found things interesting.

It unnerved his fellows, how much time he spent thinking about things. Lizardmen were not big thinkers, they were predominately doers. When at all possible, on other people, when not possible, well, they were known for having a cannibalistic streak.

"How did you know to look for us?"

"One of my wolf riders spotted your group spying on us yesterday."

They had known that long? "Why did you not attack us then?" the question was posed before the potential ramifications had time to set in.

He wilted under the wizards look, feeling shamed, though he knew not why. The wizard was not one of theirs. Why should he feel shame? Because he did, he did feel shame and he felt it most strongly, even when Hamma posed the question.

"I too wish to know this. You knew of us, why not attack? Surely you must know this would have been to your advantage."

"I do know that," he said. "I also know jumping into things without thinking has brought me much grief in the past. I am attempting to do better. Failing that, I can also transport myself great distances at a thought so even now I am in little real danger."

Hamma chuckled, a hissing sound through his teeth, "The fool claims he has no fear. The brave man fears, and spits in its face."

The wizard smiled, "I like that. It's like poetry but better, it makes sense."

The hunting chief laughed aloud at this. Some of the others snickered nervously, unsure if they should join. Hazzak appeared to be seething—no, he was hissing, quietly but angrily, like he was about to…

"I wouldn't do it." The wizard slowly turned his gaze to Hazzak, eyes glowing green within the golden rings. "The last one that attacked me I turned to stone. You look like you'd make a bigger pile of rubble than he did."

Harrack trembled, his breath quickened as the scent of violence suddenly radiated from Hazzak. A glance at Hamma revealed the larger lizardman observing the situation with implacable calm.

Hazzak's lip curled back revealing his teeth, a threatening gesture. The wizard raised a single eyebrow, slowly. What happened next Harrack did not understand, but it felt as though he been dipped in ice water. His entire body went rigid and he gripped the ground for support.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see he was not alone, Hazzak was quivering on the ground like a hatchling, eyes dilated in pure terror, so scared he could not move.

As quickly as it came, the force lifted, and life-giving air flooded Harrack's lungs in deep panting breaths. Hazzak remained flattened to the ground, shaking.

"Interesting," Hamma mused.

"You know, two months ago I could barely apply a spell like that to a half-conscious girl to put her back to sleep. I've come a long way."

Turning his back on the two youths, he gave his full attention to the thoughtful leader who seemed to have come to some sort of decision.

"What now wizard. We are at your mercy."

Harrack though this a bit much and the others shuffled about behind Hamma in clear disagreement. Even the wizard disagreed.

"I don't know about that," he said. "Let us call it a draw."

"Very well," Hamma hissing chuckled. "Now what?"

"Come as friend," the wizard said, "our camp is open to you. We have food to spare and are happy to share."

"Such generosity," said Hamma. "And what would we give in return?"

The wizard shrugged, "My 'minions' appear starved for good stories. I'm afraid in the span of a week I've told them all the good ones I know. Perhaps you might have a few to share. One in particular, I am very curious to hear."

"Indeed?" said Hamma, a thoughtful smile stretching his jaw. "How interesting."

…A tower in a wall

"Don't say it."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were thinking it loud enough."

"I just think it's funny."

"Well I don't."

The lizardmen and the goblins sat around the evening fire like old friends, rapt attention paid to the current storyteller, one of the lizardmen, who was actually a woman. Hezza spoke with excellent timing acting out her story, leaping from log to log as she detailed her battle with a deadly swamp hydra.

"She's making it up," said Gabby, joining Harry and Rosebud who sat safely away from the fire. "I've seen swamp hydra. She did not fight one on her own. She has too many body parts left."

"They don't seem to care," said Harry.

It was true. The goblins were too enthralled by the wild tale to care about accuracy. What did truth matter if the story was good, and the storyteller enrapturing?

"We can't keep them you know," the half-goblin went on. "Our food will run out eventually."

"It won't be a problem," said Harry.

"You planning to feed them forever?" said Rosebud with more snark than was strictly necessary.

"They won't be staying I mean," said Harry. "They're going somewhere."

"Where?"

He shook his head, "I'm not sure, but I think we're about to find out."

Hezza' story had concluded to great applause, and now Hamma stood, tearing the last hank of meat from a bone, an act that captured all attention. Even Bill who had been nodding off sensed the shift in the air and woke to full attention as the great lizard man began to speak.

"This story, some of you know, happened just three days ago. I tell it now for our friends, that they might know us, know our value, and what we have paid to arrive here."

The other lizard men shifted uneasily. They clearly knew what he was speaking of. Those that didn't listened like little children out of bed when they shouldn't be, listening to things they were told they shouldn't. You couldn't have moved them with a sledgehammer.

"It starts, with a tower, and a wall."

… Lizard's lament

We were two weeks on the hunt, a long way from home. The land we had hunted was plentiful with game and we were heavy with the spoils and ready to return home.

On returning to the pass through which we had come, we found it blocked by a slide of mud and stone. Thick and heavy it was as a wall to us. Smooth and wet and slick, we could not climb it nor could we find a way around as the ridges rose high and sloped toward us.

We decided to traverse the length of the ridge in an eastern direction, hoping to find another pass where we could cross over and find our way home. Three days travel, we found such a pass, only this one too was blocked, but not by rubble.

A proper wall cut across the break, and at the center of that wall, a tower. Its façade was that of a skull, it's raised gate like pointed teeth in its mouth that was the entrance.

Such a structure, we immediately knew, must be the work of some manlike people as our own do not build with stone, nor do the orcs or kobolds we have seen in our time.

Still, it was a way home, so we approached with caution.

We could feel the eyes on us but could not find the bodies that held them. We knew something was wrong when we drew near the gate, the earth moved, and things started pulling themselves out.

They were skeletons, stripped bare and dirty with soil but clearly human. They stood as living things, chattering their jaws, and flexing their hands. We were stunned, and it cost us, two of our brothers when they made to attacked.

Slow at first, they quickly gained speed and were on us before we could drop our burdens and draw our weapons.

Nerra went first, she who's nose had led us without fail, her neck snapped under the impossible strength of the fleshless hands. And Harro, who knew more songs than all the rest of us put together yet yodeled like a drunken ass when he tried to sing them. Ironic, they went for the throat without ever hearing him.

In the time it took the pair to die we were unburdened and armed and rushed to the fight, only to be assailed from the walls by stones and arrows. Looking up there was no sign of our attackers yet the attack did not cease.

Balls of flame joined arrow and stone and we were forced to retreat, grabbing what we could as we fled the place and escaped to the wood, left to wander, lost, hopeless, so close yet so far from our home.

… You're going to do it again

"So that's it," Harry mused as Hamma drew his tale to a close.

"You know anything about this tower," Rosebud asked Gabby.

She shook her head, "Never been out that far. I'm mostly a homebody."

"Hm," the vampire said, looking to the wizard who had 'that' look on his face. "Harry?"

"Yes."

"What are you thinking?" as if she didn't know.

"Just—thinking."

"Uh huh. You're going to help them, aren't you?"

"Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't?"

"Several," most of which revolving around them getting dead, "but I have a feeling none of them would be good enough to stop you."

"Probably right."

He spared her a smile, to which she could only shake her head. Of all the people she could get involved with, she got the wizard with a hero streak.


	29. Chapter 28

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 28 – This is how we do the raid

…

It was three hundred meters of open ground from the trees to the tower wall. A killing ground of open land, nowhere to hide, impossible to sneak up on.

"Whoever set this up knew what they were doing," Bill remarked as the group stood within the tree line, observing their objective.

Not that there was much to observe. The tower was as Hamma described it, façade like a skull. Today though the gate was down, as though they were expecting unwanted guests. Harry and Rosebud scoured the wall with their eyes, the vampires being naturally superior and Harry enhancing with his magic.

"See anything?"

"Just a wall, and those alternating bits at the top."

"Their called crenellations," the vampire corrected.

"Crenellations then. Unless their sleeping behind them, there's either no one up there, or some sort of magic is keeping us from seeing them."

"I'm betting on the second one," said Rosebud.

"Which means I have to bet on the first one I suppose."

"Would you like to admit defeat now?"

"No, I would not," she was already too smug to deal with.

The group was looking to him to crack this nut, and he was running through his ideas even as he matched wits with the vampire. The flat plane had potential, at least to him it did. There was a lot he could do with a gravel field, and he quickly brought it to mind as his wand slid into his hand.

He could transfigure without it, but the range combined with the quantity he intended made him reach for the crutch he'd slowly been weening himself off, to surprising results.

Those results showed in the ease the magic came to him. Rough angled slabs rose from the earth at various intervals between the trees and the tower.

"Everyone make for the first layer of cover," he ordered and dashed from the trees.

Rosebud skipped along behind him with Bill following a moment later. The wolf riders and the goblins came next, having shaken off their surprise faster than the lizardmen who followed shortly after them.

"You can move the earth?" said Hamma when he joined Harry under his slab.

"With the right visualization I can do a lot of things," he said, about to break off into a more in depth explanation of transfiguration till he saw the look of confusion and decided a simplification might be more appropriate. "Its transformation. If I can see it in my mind, I can turn anything into anything, with some exclusions."

This the big lizard understood, and he nodded, "How many of these magics can you do?"

Harry shrugged, "I've never tried to find a limit. Bigger things are harder than small things. Living things are harder than non-living. This," he said, tapping the slab, "was easy."

"I'm not seeing any motion from the wall," said Rosebud, peering around their rocky blind.

"Alright. Everyone, move up!"

Scrambling in apparent disorganization, everyone moved up to the next level of cover. Peering from behind the protective barrier they again saw nothing and moved up to the third.

"Anything?"

"I'm not seeing anything, but I am getting a scent," said the vampire. "And something else. Necro magic."

"Look! There by the gate."

The ground was moving, and it wasn't under Harry's power.

"The skeletons!" one of the lizards cried.

Hands of bone broke through the ground, hauling whole frames of what were once living things. As they cleared the crumbly earth, it was evident of the four, only two were human, while the other two had long whip like cords of bone extending from the spine, past the hip bone, and long skulls full of sharp pointed teeth.

"Our fallen." Eyes narrowing, Hamma drew the large war bow he carried, "Where must I shoot to kill them."

"You don't," said Rosebud. "Arrows are the worst weapon to use against skeletons. You need to smash them, before they smash you."

A proposition which became harder when small stones began to rain down on them from nowhere.

"This feels familiar," said Harry. "Your scent?"

"Not sure what it is," she said. "But it's definitely up there."

"The skeletons are coming!"

"Hmm." With a quick wave of his wand, the four skeletons were imprisoned by four stone walls eight feet high. "That should hold them."

And it no doubt would have, if the walls hadn't begun sinking into a boggy quagmire that appeared below them without explanation.

"We're being countered," said Rosebud. "Some sort of visibility shield, and a Bottomless Bog. They're no pushover."

"Neither am I," said Harry, popping around his cover a moment before turning to Hamma. "Can you throw me to the top of that wall?"

The lizardman looked at the wall, skeptical. "Perhaps if I were at the very foot of it. From here though? I am strong, but I am not that strong."

Harry expressed a briefly sardonic smile, then shrank, looking up at the biggest lizardman with shining black eyes.

Hamma chuckled, shaking his head, "I am that strong."

Collecting his projectile, Hamma came out into the open just as an arrow went flying past. The narrow projectile slid off his tough scales, drawing nothing more than an annoyed snarl from the lizardman. Reeling back, he hurled the squirrel like a baseball, arcing high over the wall.

From ground level they watching Harry open up, catch air, then maneuver like an ace around a hail of stones and arrows, before disappearing some ten feet above the wall.

They tried to watch for his reappearance, but the skeletons had overcome their imprisonment and moved on the group, forcing them to engage. Without fear the bones advanced, walking into and through attacks to grapple with the living.

The wolf riders managed to gang up on one and were in the process of tearing it to nibbles when Harry appeared floating from the wall, transforming before he hit the ground and sprinting for cover as stones and arrows began to fall again, better aimed and following him.

"Time to go," he shouted, throwing a powerful banishing charm at the skeletons which knocked all four into a heap they quickly began to collect themselves from.

"What is it? What did you see?"

Harry shook his head, "We need to go. Back to the tree line, NOW!"

In the chaos of battle there was confusion over the orders. The goblins scurried about unsure whether he really meant to run and the lizardmen, who up until that point had readily obeyed his orders, now turned to Hamma.

It quickly became a moot point when an enormous ball of fire appeared over the tower and descended on them like heavens wrath.

The shimmering shield that appeared over their head saved them from a fiery death and made up everyone's minds on the subject of taking orders. As one they fled back to the tree line, leaping behind bushes and trees, doing their best to get out of sight.

Hamma and Rosebud were the last in, Hamma carrying an exhausted Harry under one arm.

"That didn't go well," remarked Bill, holding up his water skin to Harry's mouth.

"No way was that just one person casting," said Rosebud. "Two at least, probably three."

"Is he going to be alright?" Gabby asked, hovering over Bill and worrying her lip.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, pushing away the water skin when the contents tried to go down the wrong tube. "Lost my sword though," he added, gesturing to the empty scabbard.

"What was up there?" asked Rosebud.

"Kinda weird, not sure what you'd call them," he said. "They were about my height, maybe a little shorter. They had a doggish look about them, though I couldn't pin down the breed."

"Kobolds," said Rosebud. "Their packish but they're not builders. If they're up on the wall they're serving someone else. Whoever threw that fireball most likely."

"There was probably thirty of them on just that side of the wall. They were very surprised when I dropped in on them, but not as surprised as I was."

"Did you kill any?"

"No. I was too busy getting my bearings and seeing what we couldn't see from down here. That's why I said to retreat. They've no shortage of ammunition. They could pelt us all day."

"Then we must find another way," said Hamma.

"We'll wait till nightfall," said Harry.

"You think it'll be easier fighting them in the dark?" Bill asked.

"Easier for me," said the vampire.

Harry only shook his head. "We tried the direct approach, that didn't work. Next, we try the sneaky approach. And for that we need dark, and I need to rest," he added. "You were asking about my spell limit Hamma. I think I just found it."

… Doom, doom I say

"The first two towers will be built to oversee the farms. We'll start building once we have all the materials and then build the walls between the towers."

"Thank you, Kohn. And what sort of timetable are we looking at?"

The dwarf stroked his beard, eyes gazing far off through time and space, "For the whole thing, six months, if all goes well. It is just wood after all."

"It'll do for now," said Co from the head of the table. "Thank you for giving this little presentation."

The dwarf nodded at the dismissal and swaggered out of the room.

"I'm not sure I understand why we need a wall," Flitwick opined once the dwarf was gone. "There's nothing out here a wall is going to stop."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," the blue man said. "Call it forward thinking. Right now, we are cut off by the forest, but I marked the land as I flew here. The trade routes and villages. The roads do not reach this far yet, but in time, they will. We will make them."

"Can we really? I mean, well, of course 'we can' I just mean, oh, well, actually I'm not sure what I mean," Pomona Sprout babbled.

"Perhaps you should leave the thinking to others more qualified then," Umbridge sniped from her exalted seat to the left of Co.

"Now Dolores, let us not be unkind," the blue man chided. "You have concerns Pomona. I understand. It is a vast new world. I had similar concerns when I arrived myself till I discovered it was not so different than the last one. People are people no matter where you go. And it will still be a while before we can make these connections. We've still time to adapt."

Pomona managed a weak smile and nodded. It had to be said for the blue man, he knew how to read people. Though to McGonagall that still begged the question of Umbridge.

"He's right Pomona," Flitwick added. "After all, are we not wizards and witches? What's the worst that could happen?"

Ask a silly question.

"DOOM!"

And you shall have an answer.

"Oh dear Merlin, not her," McGonagall groaned.

"I am quite certain I had her expelled from this castle," said Umbridge.

"You tried to have her expelled, you only managed to get her fired," and wasn't that something she had mixed feelings on.

McGonagall had never been opaque about her feelings for Sybil Trelawney; and her feelings on Dolores Umbridge could not have been more clear if she'd written them across the wall in big red letters. It left her very conflicted when the toad had tried to remove the fraud, only to be stopped by Dumbledore.

It was even worse that his replacement for her had been so much more tolerable, even likable. More's the pity he had been out of the castle the night it decided to leap across the multiverse.

"Hello. I don't believe we've met," said Co, hardly put out by someone blasting in the room proclaiming 'DOOM'.

"Indeed, we have not, though I had foreseen your coming my good djinn."

The blue man smiled as the bedraggled looking woman sketched a rough curtsy, "I'm impressed. You are the first to have identified me as what I am. I had begun to think you people were unfamiliar with my kind. How is it that you know?"

Here it comes, McGonagall thought.

"The all-seeing eye shows all, in due time."

And there it is.

"A seer then. How interesting. And you say you foresaw my coming?"

She ignored the question, continuing to talk as she made her way around the table. "Doom approaches, this I have seen. It draws close, it watches, it's patience is great."

"Sounds dreadful," he said, not sounding like he meant it.

"Fear and dread, all shall be rent to ash. Scoff you may, but even you shall not be spared…"

The words at the end were mumbled, hardly a sound at all but for the moving of the lips. The choke, that natural reaction that came from having a sword against your throat was far better articulated.

None saw how it happened, they'd all blinked at the same time. Somehow Co had gone from reclining in his chair, to halfway across the table, holding his sword to Trelawney's neck while looking more fierce and furious than he'd looked when fighting Dumbledore.

"How, do you know, that name?" he demanded, chest heaving with unspent rage.

"The eye sees all," Trelawney whispered. "A moments time, in private, is all I ask."

And she did receive. His sword shaking in his hand, he dragged her into the small room at the back and slammed the door behind them.

"Well… that was unexpected," said Flitwick.

"I didn't even know she was awake," said Sprout.

"She woke just before… just before Mr. Potter was released from my care the last time."

Several heads bowed at the mention of the man who left. They had not been wracked with guilt as Dumbledore had, but that isn't to say they didn't feel it.

"He should have taken her with." And then there were those who wouldn't know what guilt looked like if it kicked them in the teeth.

The group of administrators sat in awkward silence for several minutes before the door opened again and the two stepped out. Co was smiling genially as Sybil carried on a conversation they'd been having, "It fog's my eye you see. The sooner I can get out of the castle the better."

"I'll have a few men get it together…"

"Coback, and two others. They'll be ready in two days. I'd also like to take a couple of the students with me. They showed some talent with the eye and I'd like to nurture that further."

"That will be fine," said Co, finally noticing all the eyes on him. "Yes?"

"Is, uh… is everything, alright?" asked Flitwick.

"Quite alright, but thank you for asking," said Co.

"Hm, not quite, alright," said Trelawney, eyeing the door. "Here he comes."

She no sooner said it than the doors again burst open, and Kohn rushed in. "Master Co!"

"Kohn. Did you forget something?"

The dwarf shook his head, "Problem. There's been fighting. One of the wizards, he attacked one of our men."

"I—see."

There was ice in that statement, a chill that Trelawney seemed entirely oblivious to, "No, not alright at all."

Doom… DOOOOOOOOOOOM!


	30. Chapter 29

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 29 – Night raid

…

The hour is late when wicked things come, and this is well known. A watch must be set, must be kept at such hours, lest such things, as described to be wicked, may find themselves in and have their way. Set the watch, keep the watch, steady watch, ready watch.

The kobold marched the watch along the wall, howling at one end 'all's well' before setting his march to return to the tower. All were riled from the afternoons work. They hadn't had 'visitors' more than thrice since setting down stakes and something in the blood pulsed eagerly for more.

Traitorous blood, the dames did say. No more we want, just go away. They were always like that, so antisocial. It confused the dog men, who were by nature packish creatures and despised being alone.

What did they care if more came? If a hundred, a thousand came, it was all the same to them. They would greet them thusly with much courtesy before sending them on their way, as they'd done that afternoon. What an exciting time. Especially the part with the strange man who'd gotten on the wall.

This kobold had not seen the man, but mouths talked, as was their design, and ears heard, because what else were they good for, kobolds didn't wear hats. There'd been much excitement, a good bit of scurrying and several other things of a less dignified nature. Good fun all round.

But now the fun was over, and it was back to work, marching up and down the wall. It was such boring work, especially after so eventful an afternoon.

The kobold trudged which was quite improper for a watch, but he was tired, it was late, the day hung heavy like a coat of lead, dragging him down. He yawned, then again, the two yawns met, took a liking, moved in together, and by and by there was a third.

With all this yawning it can be forgiven the squirrel was able to sneak up on his front, what with squirrels being a sneaky bunch by both temper and tradition. He jumped a little to keep his foot from trodding the little rodent, black eyes so big the glint of moonlight on the shining orbs shone like tiny stars.

The jolt of adrenaline faded quickly, and the strangeness of a squirrel sitting in the middle of the way staring at him crept to the back of his mind and into the nearest bunk where it would not be heard from again till morning. After which it would be quickly forgotten in favor of more important things.

Once again, the yawns produced heirs, and the kobold matched stares with the curious tree rodent. A poor sort of match, the kobold was losing badly. His eyes were so heavy, they blurred, they lied. The tiny stars in the large black eyes seemed to turn green, but the moment quickly passed, and the whole wide world, as the kobold could see, turned a dark, and comfortable black.

… Bad dogs, no biscuit

The kobold toppled over backward as the spell took hold, stopping halfway, held up by some unseen agent that slowly lowered it the rest of the way to the floor.

"Well done Harry," a voice whispered from a patch of thick air, the only kind known to produce words at any volume.

The squirrel preened, adopting a faux humility that faded quickly and he was once again all business. Gesturing for the air to follow, he scampered in bursts toward the tower and the open door where a faint light glowed from within.

Three more kobolds sat around in varying states of consciousness. One was reading something under the flickering candlelight while the other two sat nodding off, their duty discharged or waiting to be in which case why not catch a few winks while no one was looking.

The squirrel looked, and when the squirrel looked, people slept. The two halfway to dreamland were tossed on the bullet train and there in short order. The reader was harder, he had to get on the table and get his attention and doing that made the kobold more aware and less susceptible.

But the squirrel persisted; harmless in appearance the kobold let down his guard, then let down his master, then let down his head to rest on his book. The squirrel sighed, of deep relief.

"That was a close one," the thick air said.

"Almost thought we were made," Harry agreed, resuming form.

A moment later, thick air was filled with Bill Baggs, a small unadorned ring slipped discreetly into his pocket. "Best get a move on, afore someone raises the alarm."

The two crept to the door, listened for any hint of presence, then, finding none, opened the door and scurried into the dark. The stairs led down to the ground floor and another door which snored softly.

A quick inspection revealed not a slumbering door, but a slumbering guard. For shame on him, yet at the same time bless his weary hide. It was much easier to send him into a deeper sleep from which he'd not wake till woken, than have to explain their presence to his groggy doggy brain.

And let's not forget they'd still the other side of the wall to wrangle.

"I'll manage the wall; you find the mechanism that raises the gate."

A mutual nod, both vanished from perception in their chosen way. A squirrel scampered up an unfamiliar set of stairs, and a patch of thick air went hunting for the metaphorical doorknob.

Returning in short order from a guardhouse full of sleeping kobold, the squirrel found the thick air surrounded, and not only surrounded but visible, corporeal, with sharp pointy bits leveled in his direction.

The small man was amazingly collected given his situation, meaning he had yet to shit his pants or say anything that might get him full of the sharp pointys, quite the accomplishment since his mouth seemed to be running a mile a minute with the sort of pointless yet polite gobble that constitutes most tea parties.

One can only imagine where he acquired so much of it.

"You really would not believe the weather of late, by jove that is a lovely spear, did you do that comb over yourself, how is your mother, we really must do this more often, this is lovely, don't you think this is lovely, I think this is lovely."

It was a mental sprint to find a solution. He thought almost as fast as Bill's mouth was running. Their crescent moon formation had everyone looking away from him, giving him carte blanche, as it were, so long as carte blanche was performed quietly, and quickly.

"And I really just cannot get over this weather and I, uh, oh. Oh my."

The small man alone saw Harry go to work; distracted by their quarry, the kobolds didn't even know they were under attack till it was too late.

"You alright?"

Bill nodded, then stopped to let his brain catch up with his heart and tell her the race was over.

"I don't mind saying, I was a little worried there."

"How did they find you?" Harry asked, levitating the conglomerate of statues out of the way, removing their pointy bits from the vicinity of Bill.

"Sniffed me out I'm afraid," he admitted. "Hadn't thought of that, though it seems obvious now that I think about it."

"Good learning opportunity," said Harry, pulling a torch from his pocket and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. "Anything that doesn't kill you…"

"Sends you to your room for a clean pair of pants," said Bill.

It was close enough.

The raising of the gate was a tricky affair. There were levers and weights and counterweights and all sort of apparatus neither fully understood. They managed to make it work, though the noise was something dreadful. If the tower didn't know they were there before, they did now.

"Let's hope their spellcaster is a heavy sleeper," said Harry, placing the torch in the now open maw of the tower, the signal to the rest who watched silent from the trees.

Deep, or slow, the invading force were within meters of the gate before anything happened. The skeletons began to pull themselves from the ground, then stopped halfway, when their constituent parts became something other than the standard composition of calcium and other minerals; limestone not normally being a thing found in bones, either human or lizard.

"Looks like you were right?" said Harry as Rosebud trotted past the stoned bones.

"You doubted?"

"Did I say that?"

Someone cursed on seeing the stoned kobolds and Harry received several looks from the bunch that hadn't seen him do that trick before.

"It seems, an odd way to die," Hamma remarked, though not in a way that suggested it was a protest.

"They aren't dead," said Harry. "I can change them back if I want. The spell may wear off on its own eventually. We better get moving."

Their group was large, so they split into two teams and searched up each side of the tower. It was quickly apparent there was magic at work. The first floor alone was at least three times larger than it should have been and filled with every manner of room.

Bedrooms for one, not counting the barracks where more kobolds slept, especially well once Harry was done. Storerooms held food and other such goods, and a wine press/distillery raised more than a few brows, two at a time in most cases.

Along the way they found numerous traps, mundane and magical. Bill, the burglar, had an eye for such things, the mundane at least, as did Rosebud who just had eyes too keen by half. Cherry, the fairy, was a good gauge of magic and steered them around several things, Harry assumed, they were in no position to deal with.

They met on the other side, compared notes, then returned to a small door on the right.

"There's a set of stairs on the other side going up," Harry explained.

"We found something that looked like it must lead to a basement," said Rosebud. "Maybe we should try that."

Harry shook his head, "The people who threw that fireball won't be in the basement," he reasoned. "They'll be at the top."

"Long way up," she said.

"Then we better get moving. We can't expect to keep sneaking around. They'll know we're here sooner or later. Best use the advantage while we have it."

He gripped the door handle and pulled.

The noise was deafening.

"I think they know we're here," Rosebud cried over the cacophony of bells.

"Tell me something I don't know," he shouted back.

"I think your sleep spell won't work around this."

Dazed and confused, the kobolds staggered out of the barracks, half dressed and fumbling with their weapons but still, awake.

"Shit!"

"My thoughts exactly."

"Everyone through here," Harry ordered. "We need to get to the top and fast."

"You really think that'll work?" she asked as the group quickly filed through the door.

"We won't find the ones in charge down here," he reasoned. "If I were doing this I'd be at the top of the tower."

"Oh, really? Anything else you'd do that we should know about?"

"Yeah. I'd lock you in a small box in the basement where I wouldn't have to hear your sass."

The vampire grinned at his scowling face, "You say the sweetest things."

And Harry did groan, "Good grief."

… Twenty lashes, then we'll see how we feel

A murmur ran through the crowd, why were they there, what was happening? The great hall was crowded like it hadn't been since the Triwizard tournament, and the weight of anticipation was heavier than it had ever been.

The staff table had been removed, and Co stood at the center where the headmaster's seat usually was. Those near enough to see saw a face like chiseled blue stone, flawless, emotionless. It made them wish they were somewhere in the back.

"Denizens of Hogwarts," he spoke in a calm even tone that somehow still managed to reach the back. "When I took possession of this castle, and took you all under my protection, I did so believing certain things were understood. It would appear that I was mistaken."

Chills ran down spines as everyone began to wonder who had done what. More than one glance was made to the armed men standing around the room, none of whom would return so much as an acknowledging glance.

"Earlier today, an argument turned into something else. Violence was done, violence, with magic."

Which was quickly understood as, one of you attacked one of us, since this was still the mindset of most, them and us.

"In the short time I have been here I have heard no small amount of griping, and I, foolishly, thought it was just that. There's certainly been no shortage of griping among my own men, though most of them have the good sense not to do it where they think I can hear them."

The small joke received a weak laugh, betraying the nerves winding tighter with each passing moment.

"Tonight, I aim to make an example, one for all of you to see. See, and remember, what happens when the rules are broken, when trust is betrayed, and when people are hurt for no damn good reason."

The crowd jumped at the moan of the doors, and all turned to see a bedraggled figure led in, or more accurately, carried in, by a pair of satyrs. Even those who'd never met him had to know by the brassy hair, it was Ron Weasley hauled to the head of the room and tossed down in front of Co.

"Ronald Weasley."

The addressed Weasley struggled to look up, his whole body shook.

A nod to the two satyrs and he was roughly stripped of his shirt, left cowering on his knees as Dolores Umbridge approached from behind Co with a well-oiled cat o nine tails in her hand.

"Sartoryus!"

From the side panel, another satyr approached. One arm was held in a sling tightly bound to his chest. Dots were connected, two plus two equaled five, and people gasped as they realized what was about to happen.

"I think we'll start with twenty, then see how we feel," said Co, nodding to Umbridge who passed the cat over to the injured satyr. "Whenever you're ready."


	31. Chapter 30

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 30 – Leveling up

…

The door had horns.

After a narrow escape through the last door, the invaders, that being Harry and company, had traversed a long spiraling staircase that seemed to go on forever.

This was a trick, a minor bit of magic but well applied, it would have had them walking for days, or till the kobolds broke through Harry's barricade, if the fairy hadn't been along and able to fly to the end of the hall where the focus, a small orb, kept the illusion running.

The orb, now shattered, sat on a sort of wall sconce, right next to the door, you know, the one with the horns.

"I don't like it," said Gabby, "why put horns on a door?"

"Decoration?" Harry offered.

"Bragging?" said Rosebud.

"I'll bet there's a minotaur in there," said Bill with far too much enthusiasm.

"What makes you say that?" said Harry.

"Call it a hunch."

"Are we going in then?" Hamma asked with a hint of impatience.

Though why he would be impatient was anyone's guess. It wasn't like they'd been standing there five minutes just looking at the door.

"I don't like it," Gabby reiterated.

"Stay close then," said Harry.

Leading from the front, Harry grabbed the large brass ring that was the handle and pulled. The door opened readily, a loud creaking groan of protesting hinges making for an effective doorbell, and Harry heard the half-goblin mutter behind him, "don't like it".

Perhaps letting her unease infect his own judgement, he drew his sword before entering the room. The smell was the first thing to hit him, though certainly not the last. It was like a barn, and no mistake; the floor was covered in matted straw mixed with what he could only assume was dung.

"Ugh, what is that stench?" Gabby complained as the others began to fill in behind him.

"Cow dung," said Rosebud, daintily turning her nose.

"I told you," said Bill, "there's a minotaur in here."

If so, Harry didn't see it. The room was empty save for them, but a gated doorway on the far side of the room gave a clue as to why. The gate suddenly raising of its own accord gave a lot more than that.

Heavy snorting and clacking hooves preceded a large shadow and the whole group tensed when a bovine beller shook the room.

"Here he comes," said Bill.

And come it did, stomping into the room, red-eyed fury.

"You were wrong Bill," said Harry, "it wasn't a minotaur," it was five minotaur, each as big as Hamma.

And what an odd-looking bunch.

When most people think minotaur the image to be conjured is typically of a beefy human man with a bull's head in place of the usual sort, and this was the case, for two of them. The point that distinguished these was the length of their horns, one having short thicker horns while the other had longer thinner horns.

The other three were something else entirely. At the center of the group was a shaggy man beast, his head looking something like an ox rather than a bull, and the other two were topped with what Harry recognized, though only vaguely, as the heads of bison.

Diverse in head, the rest was fairly standard. Thick hooved feet, bulging muscular frames, glowing red eyes, and thick metal collars around their necks.

"What are they waiting for?" after coming into the room and lining up the five bully boys had done nothing more than scuff the floor and look menacing.

"They probably haven't been ordered to attack, just defend," said Rosebud. "Those collars are slave control collars. All they can do is follow the orders they're given."

The idea of 'slave collars' caused a certain outrage in Harry's soul, but it was put aside when a disembodied voice filled the room, "KILL THEM YOU FOOLS!" and the fight was on.

The minotaur charged as one, showing much more unit cohesion than the invaders who leapt to the battle in disorganized groups. Harry went straight for one of the bison heads, swinging his sword in a downward slash at the beefy beast's head, only managing to catch, and lock, into the horn.

A quick vicious twist, his sword was wrenched from his hands and sent flying across the room. Staggering at the disarmament he was within easy reach when the minotaur grabbed at him, crushing him to a massive chest in an embrace that seemed to define 'bear hug'. It certainly felt like he was being hugged by a bear, if only slightly less hairy.

With all the others occupied Harry found he was facing this one alone, a remarkable show of faith in his abilities or a sign of their total lack of coordination in a fight. His ribs protested at the state of things and to oblige the need for change the minotaur squeezed harder.

Quite suddenly it was found to be hugging itself and the bison man looked down in confusion at where his huggy doll had just been, finding a strange looking squirrel instead. The squirrel in question, being of the type with way too much attitude for a creature its size, flew up his chest and attacked the head with vicious scrambling claws and nasty gnawing teeth.

The minotaur bellowed and flailed, snatching at the tiny attacker who managed to stay just out of reach of the large but slow and uncoordinated hands.

He was viciousness incarnate, claw and tooth, scratch and bite, fury swipes and crunch… he scampered around the bovine head with such ease as to be called swagger, but for all this conceit, he did not seem to be doing any damage to the minotaur, save in what he was causing the minotaur to do to itself.

Even this was barely worthy of mention, though the moo man had punched himself several times in his attempts to smash the squirrel, he showed no sign that this hurt him, and as he had missed every time it was no harm to Harry either.

Stopping for an instant at the very top of the head, sitting lightly to confuse the bison who had lost track of him at that point, he considered his options.

There were a number of things he could do; turn him to stone, or wood, or really anything that was not a big angry cow man, that was an option; the sleeping spell had been put to good use recently; a full body petrification would probably hold him; even just hovering him off the floor so he could not bring his massive strength to bear in any meaningful way was an option, not his favorite, but still an option.

All of these, however, had one major drawback, time. He would need time to do any of them, even his quickest transfiguration still took a few moments to accomplish and there was a lot of him. Moreover, he would have to change back to do any of those, save the sleep spell, and for that he would need to look the beast man in the eye, a problematic position to be in when he was under the orders to 'kill them you fools'.

He had yet to meet this person giving orders, but he already didn't like them. Not simply as they had commanded him to be killed but he felt it safe in assuming they were the one who had enslaved the ones now trying to kill them. That irked him, irked him deeply.

Coming from a time and place that was against the very notion of owning another person, it was natural he should feel some sense of outrage at seeing another sentient being enslaved, and by magic no less. But for Harry, it went deeper than that. He'd been a slave, in all but name, for as long as he could remember.

He'd done for his relatives as best he was able and more since well before normal children are even helping their parents with little chores and what had he gotten, a broom cupboard and table scraps. The dishes were washed because Harry washed them. The lawn was mowed, and the garden was tended because Harry mowed and tended the garden. He knew what slavery looked like, and the sight of it burned him like white hot embers.

Scrambling down the back of the head he came to the metal collar, staring at the artifact even as the minotaur tried fruitlessly to reach round to scratch his own back where Harry sat, right in that spot you can never reach.

He knew nothing of how the collar worked, could only guess what it was made of, but none of that really mattered because Harry had a plan, a crazy, stupid, reckless plan, which meant it was totally going to work. Well, addendum, it was totally going to work, or he was totally going to get killed. Seeing as he was headed that direction anyway if he didn't do something there seemed no good reason not to.

Glaring at the collar with an intensity that would have shamed most lasers, he focused his mind, then focused his magic. This was the stupid part. He'd learned, after much practice, to cast a sleep spell with his eyes. He'd also learned, through much training, to perform transfiguration without the assistance of a wand. Never once had he attempted to perform transfiguration with his eyes, while in his animagus form.

There was actually copious amounts of literature that stated emphatically that performing magic of any kind in the animagus form was completely impossible. To his benefit, Harry had never read any of that literature, and its amazing what you can do when you ignore the 'experts' and just do it.

He didn't know what he should turn the collar into, so he settled on a simple form shift, open it up and get it off, peel it like a banana. This, you could say, was the crazy part.

Having a clear picture in your mind was vital for a proper transfiguration, and given everything else he had working against him, lacking a solid picture of what he was trying to do almost guaranteed failure.

And this is where we get to the reckless part. Harry knew this, and he tried anyway. In the end, it's probably the only reason it worked.

The collar as it was could not be transfigured, such was the quality of the thing, but his attempts to do so, to warp its form did have an effect. The metal band shifted slightly under the wizards attempt, and that shift created a short in the spells which started a cascading backlash that caused the collar to explode like a hand grenade, spewing shrapnel in every direction.

One of those bits of shrapnel was squirrel shaped and went splat against the wall with a pitiful squeak. More pitiful still, when he tried to slide down the wall, as gravity dictated, his teeth caught on one of the bricks and he was left hanging like an embarrassed wall ornament.

I'm almost certain I didn't do anything to deserve this, the squirrel thought.

When gravity refused to finish him off, he collected his wits, and a few straying brain cells. Shifting back to human, he found his sword just within reach and slid it back into its scabbard.

Surveying the fight, he found it was mostly over. Three of the others lay dead, as did three goblins and one of the lizard men. Everyone else was engaged with the ox headed minotaur. Hamma was on top of him, holding him down, while everyone else had piled onto his extremities or taken hold of his horns trying to hold him still while Bill scampered around looking for a place to put the sword in.

"Wait!"

Bill stopped so fast he tripped.

"We can't keep him down much longer," Hamma shouted.

Which was readily evident. Even with all of them piled on top the minotaur was still moving them with each frantic burst of muscle. But they still had him, which made things easier for Harry, as did the discovery of solid stone flooring underneath the straw and shit.

Head clearing, he used the floor to mold crude bindings around the minotaur, holding him down tightly.

"Plug his ears," Harry ordered.

Lacking nothing in materials a pair of goblins grabbed hands of straw and dung and packed the ox man's ears.

Motioning everyone to stand back, Harry seized the minotaur by the horns and forced him to match his gaze. Madness burned in those eyes, but magic burned stronger in Harry's. It took longer than any of the others, but eventually the minotaur stilled, his body relaxing as his mind wandered off to the sheep pastures.

"That seemed like more work than necessary," said Rosebud, standing hands on hips, a clear indication there had better be a very good answer forthcoming.

"They didn't ask for this," said Harry. "You said it yourself. Slave collars. There was nothing I could do about those four, but this one didn't have to die."

"Uh, I think you mean three."

Following the path directed by Gabby's shaking finger, he found the minotaur he'd been fighting was not dead, at least, not yet. It bled from several wounds around its neck and staggered as though in a daze, but it staggered on its feet, staggered their direction.

Weapons were raised only to be lowered when a hand was raised, and Harry put himself between the group and the minotaur.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

The minotaur looked at him, shook its head then staggered. It may have heard him speak but it didn't appear to understand.

"Please, you're free now. You don't have to fight. We're not going to hurt you."

The minotaur staggered and swayed, his balance at odds but his eyes never leaving Harry as he stepped closer and closer.

"Please, if you'll let me, I think I can help you."

But not quick enough. With a single staggering step back the minotaur toppled, hitting the floor with a meaty whoomph.

"Well, I guess that's the end of… oh no, is he doing what I think he's doing?" Rosebud grumbled through her hand.

"If you mean he's got his wand out and doing something around those holes," said Bill.

Ignoring the peanut gallery, Harry waved his wand in rapid, well-practiced motions. He'd gotten the knack for the simple healing charms while training with the goblins who, while eager, were no more coordinated with a weapon than he when they started. He'd gotten more than a little practice which had also served to increase his already healthy respect for Poppy Pomphrey and the work she did.

At least he only had a handful of goblins, she had a whole school full of stupid children, and they had magic.

The holes sealed shut slowly, he could feel them resisting his magic. He considered it a miracle they were as small as they were, given the strength of the explosion that made them, enough to make a squirrel go spalt on the wall.

"Do we really have time for this? The longer we take the more time they have to prepare for us."

The vampire was right, he knew. But his conscience would not allow him to just leave the minotaur to bleed to death. There was nothing he could do about the blood already lost however, and they left him there, patched, breathing, but still unconscious.

There was no trap on the next set of stairs, logically if you'd gotten that far you were smart enough to see through such things, and anyway, the next room would stop you. This seemed to be the attitude, and not unjustified.

The next room was full of water, and that water was full of snakes. So full in fact you could barely see the water as they roiled in coils like a single living mass of rope.

"My word!" exclaimed Bill.

"Where did they get so many snakes?" said Gabby, voicing the thought for the entire group.

"It doesn't matter where they came from, how do we get across?" said Rosebud.

"You have an idea," said Hamma, observing Harry staring thoughtfully at the slithering mass.

"A couple. And given how conversation went the last time, I think I'll just skip ahead a bit," said Harry, holding up his wand which sparked meaningfully.


	32. Chapter 31

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 31 – Men and beasts

…

It hurt, it hurt, every line across his back, it hurt, it hurt!

"Ron, please quit squirming. You're making this very difficult."

"It hurts," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Well I should hope so," said Hermione. "If it didn't no one would be afraid of a good whipping, now would they?"

"Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better," he groused.

"You were lucky," said Neville from the chair nearby.

"LUCKY!" Ron screamed in outrage, followed by a scream of pain.

"Sit still! Or I'm not going to do this," Hermione chastised.

He was more than happy to be still, moving hurt, but he could hardly let such a remark go unchallenged, it bloody well hurt. "I was whipped you know. How you bloody call that lucky?"

"Because," said Neville with a hint of iron, "you were whipped by an injured satyr with one arm in a sling and not the muscly blue man with two good arms. You couldn't tell, but the rest of us could see every lash was hurting him too. That's why he felt like twenty was enough, 'he' couldn't take any more."

"So, you're saying what? He was being nice to me?"

"Nicer than you deserve," Neville said. "I still can't believe you attacked him in the first place. What were you thinking? We're lucky he didn't take it out on all of us."

"Wouldn't expect you to understand," Ron grumbled into his arm.

It wasn't in the Weasley makeup to surrender, or so Ron believed. As he saw it, his brothers had given in to the new overlord like a pair of traitors, and Ginny. Sweet Merlin that girl. The way she was swaggering around in front of them all. She was the reason he'd lost it on the satyr.

He'd heard the horny goat man making several indecent remarks at his sister while a couple of his mates stood back and watched. In his forebrain he was protecting her purity, that's what he told himself. The traitorous scribe in the back though, the one he never listened to, had written it down as him being a cock blocking git.

Either way, he'd done what he done, and he'd got his whipping and foolishly he believed this was the end of it. But as most men know, when women are involved, it's never the end of it.

"Where is he? Where is he!"

She stormed into the common room roaring like an angry lioness, ironic since she was a badger.

"He's over here," said Neville, grinning at the glare of 'traitor' Ron shot him.

"Be careful Susan, I just finished covering his back," said Hermione, stepping away, leaving him at the mercy of his angry girlfriend.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you—you stupid, stupid BOY!"

"Uh, Su," he tried, but it was too late, she was crying.

Not just crying; crying was dignified, crying was restrained. Susan fell to her knees, shoved his head into her chest and bawled. "You have any idea how worried I was about you! You have any idea how it felt having to watch them whip you! Don't you ever, EVER, do something so stupid ever again, do you hear me!"

It was hard not to with her wailing right into his ear but in his current position, firmly ensconces between two magnificent mounds, he could do little more than mumble.

"It's cute how she handles him, don't ya think," Neville chuckled quietly.

"She could be a little more modest about it," said Hermione, blushing brightly at Neville's knowing look.

"You know, if you ever feel the need to yell at me like that…"

And the blush went atomic.

"Oooooo! Boys!"

… I just can't 'bear' it

"You boys ready to go now?"

The little vampire grinned at the growls directed her direction. She loved any kind of attention, so long as it was attention.

"I get you don't have to breath so you don't need a 'breather'," said Harry, "the rest of us however…"

"Yes, yes, yes," she cut him off, "take your little rest. Give them more time to throw things in our path."

"I think we could do without the snark, thank you."

After passing through the room with the snakes they'd come to a room filled with birds. Harmless looking, albeit lovely, in a wide variety of kinds and colors. Colors which all turned to shades of red when the savage blighters attacked.

After that had been a room full of bees that swarmed in ways that displayed a higher intelligence guiding them. Flying in such perfect concert they made the shape of fists, swords and arrows.

The thick skinned lizardmen were least affected but the goblins took a wretched thrashing, adding two more to the casualties before Harry tossed Rosebud under Hamma and set the whole floor ablaze, incinerating most of the swarm and smoking out the rest.

This was followed by the peak of humiliation, the monkey room. Why they had a room full of monkeys in their tower he could not even begin to guess. And what those monkeys did to them, he didn't want to think about.

They were out in the hall again, taking their breather. None of them so foolish as to rest in the room, even after they'd cleared it out. The people at the top had shown they had power in the rooms but not since the illusion at the first level had anything happened on the stairs. It was safe, ish.

"We should get going," Harry groaned, lurching to his feet.

The others imitated their 'leader'. The siege of the tower had taken its toll, a price none of them had been prepared to pay. Level after level they ascended with no idea how much farther they would have to go.

Harry did his best not to dwell on it, not to even think about it. Approach the problem one step at a time, deal with what's in front of you, then move on. It was good advice, a little something that had been written in the back cover of the enhancement book by one of its previous owners.

He pushed through the next door, Cherry riding on his shoulder lighting the way, and came into an empty room; part of an empty room. The usual circle that had been ever room in the tower thus far was cut off three quarters of the way across by a solid stone wall.

"Is that it!" someone exclaimed behind him. "All this and they just throw a wall in front of us. Do they really think a wall is going to stop us?"

Did they? No.

Everything they'd gone through had taught him a great deal about his enemy without his ever having met them. The birds had appeared harmless, till they hadn't. The bees had buzzed around harmlessly, till they didn't. Even the monkeys had sat in their trees, which was a whole other sort of weird given they were indoors, till they'd started… FLINGING, at them.

The wall, floor to ceiling, with no doors or windows, was not just a wall, it couldn't be, he refused to believe it. But then, what was it.

"Look at the floor," said Rosebud, pointing to several long gouges in the otherwise pristine surface.

"What sort of beast could do that?" Harry wondered.

"I'LL SHOW YOU," a voice boomed.

A gentle glow encompassed the wall, then it folded in half. Scraping off the ceiling and slamming into itself as it scraped along the floor. It did it again, then again, and again, and yet again. It did it so till there was nothing left but a single lay of bricks which then folded itself into the floor, but no one saw that, they were too busy staring down the things that had been on the other side of the wall, the ones that put the gouges in the floor.

"Oh my… Oh, deary my," Bill quailed, and not alone.

"It would figure," said Rosebud, tossing aside her parasol to free up both hands.

"Unbelievable," muttered Hamma, the only one not dwarfed by the massive beasts. "What kind of idiot keeps a pair of owlbear."

Owlbears, yeah, that sounds right, Harry thought. Unlike the others, he had no idea what an owlbear was, but the name seemed to fit the two hairy beasts that were staring at them through angry avian eyes behind vicious raptor beaks.

"You all seem to know what these are," said Harry, implying he did not, "how do we fight them?"

"Any way that keeps us alive," said Rosebud.

Anything more specific was lost in the charge of battle, the two owlbears hurling into the crowd who saw them coming and threw themselves into the thick, yet again.

Harry quickly discovered their initial hesitance had been well founded. The owlbears were massively strong and vicious in a way that bordered on sadistic. Three lizardmen died in just the initial charge and the titanic Hamma was thrown back across the room.

The wolves circled warily, snapping at the heels, feinting at openings but fearful to commit, so great and frightful was the beasts presence, so vicious and terrible its wrath. The beak tore through anything it got a hold of, wood, stone and flesh alike. Two goblins fell to its razor edge and three others were swatted aside like bugs by its massive paw.

They continued to move, but the weak wheezing sounds made Harry wonder how much longer.

He was no healer, there was little he could do for them, especially when the owlbear turned on him. Rearing up before him, his mind went blank, his wand fell from his hand and he attempted to grapple the beast. This was the worst thing he could have done.

Weakened by distraction, the owlbear slammed him to the floor and began tearing at him. Snapping with its beak and scraping with its claws, the wizard hadn't even time to think as he wriggled and squirmed out of harms way, taking scrapes and cuts to avoid tears and gouges.

He took a moments respite when half the goblins slammed into the owlbear, trying to shove it off him only to be tossed back by a slight shift of its enormous bulk. He focused his strength into one hand and clocked the beast, doing little in the way of injury but much in the way of making it mad.

It slapped his still raised hand hard with its head then pinned it down with one crushing paw. He tried to do something with the other hand, only to have the entire shoulder slammed into the floor, pinning him firmly in place and leaving him at the mercy of the beak.

Tired and hurting, every clever means of escape fled his mind as he stared into those predator eyes, the beak opening to strike.

Then, quite suddenly, a shadow fell over them both and two thick meaty hands wrapped around the owlbear's head. With a vicious twist the beast was rolled and Harry scrambled to freedom, summoning his wand to his hand and turning to the fight to find his rescuer still grappling the owlbear and doing a much better job of it than he had.

He was momentarily stunned, watching the minotaur wrestle the amalgam beast. The minotaur, the one he had freed, albeit in an explosive manner, and left hoping he would be alright was now saving his life. What a twist.

But the fight was starting to turn against him. The owlbear was clearly the stronger, and it had more leverage. Drawing his sword and spreading an enhancement across the blade he shoved it through the beasts neck, drawing a screech of pain which turned into a bloody gurgle when he pushed down and opened the neck up all the way.

It struggled a bit as its lifeblood poured out in buckets, then just as swiftly as it had been pulled off him, the beast went limp and was left to fall to the floor.

The minotaur heaved a great heavy breath, turning to the wizard they shared a look, and that was all they got before the room was filled with a horrible screech. The other owlbear was still alive, still fighting and, smelling the blood of its kin, enraged beyond what words could describe. No, this sort of rage could only be described by actions, swift, violent action.

Everyone within reach was swatted, slapped, or smashed. Harry was knocked to the floor again when Rosebud came flying through the air off an ursine backhand.

"Rosebud!"

The little vampire winced, winced!

The wizard saw red, then he saw green, then he saw the owlbear bearing down on him like a locomotive, and the minotaur stepping in to guard.

"Stand back!" he commanded, rising like an angry dawn, the vampire in his arms, the tip of his wand glowing sickly green. "I'm ending this now," he growled. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A brief flash lit the room, a line of green energy connecting them for the briefest instant. The owlbear, carried by its momentum, slid across the floor stopping dead at Harry's feet.

The room held its breath, waiting to see it the beast would rise. Harry lowering a shaking wand arm was all the sign they needed, and the room breathed again. It was over.

"That was, amazing," said Rosebud, staring up in something like awe, if awe could be done sarcastically.

Harry said nothing. What could he say?

"Eh hem!"

Oh, right, the minotaur.

"Thank you," Harry said. "I owe you my life."

The minotaur looked at him, rubbing his neck thoughtfully, "I think, that makes us even."

"I don't know, I think you might still owe him a little—yipe!"

The vampire scowled from her seat on the floor. Harry walked around her, offering his hand to the minotaur. The minotaur took it, despite his clear surprise at the offer.

"You're here for the witches then?"

"Witches? Is that who's at the top of this tower?"

The minotaur nodded.

"Are they the ones who put the collar on?"

Again he nodded, slower, heavier.

"This was the last floor. I had hoped to catch you before you made it to the top."

This time Harry nodded. "What do I call you?"

"Boren."

Summoning his sword from where it had fallen, he offered the weapon to the minotaur, Boren.

Smiling, and wasn't that just a weird thing to see on a cow, he took the offered weapon, no words needing be said yet understanding fully achieved.

"How many are left?" Harry asked, and flinched when he was given the answer.

They'd been halved. Bill and Gabby were alright. Rosebud was shaken but otherwise fine. Hamma was bruised, but mostly just in the pride. Two of the wolves were dead and a total of ten goblins across all the floors. The lizardmen had lost seven, all to the owlbear.

Some might have looked at the numbers, considered his inexperience and called it not bad for a first-time raider. Harry was nowhere near so generous or callous . They had followed him, and now they were dead.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

His breath was heavy, his wand hand trembled with unbridled fury, "No, I am not," he said. "Now let's go kill some witches."


	33. Chapter 32

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 32 – Running just to stand still

…

The fire in a forge never goes out, this is by design, because starting it up again is such a difficult task. If you know the way, you can tell how long the smith has been away by looking at the state of the fire.

"Early this morning I'd say. Maybe late last night."

The horse chuffed impatiently at the subordinate as the woman on its back stared down disdainfully, "What about the house?"

"Not much in there," said another subordinate. "Bit of a mess. Looks like they've had guests, lots a spots on the floor people been sleeping."

"Commander! Commander!"

"What is it?"

"I think we found them."

"Where?"

"There's a break in the cliffs, and a wall with a tower blocking it up. We saw lights flashing inside. The gate was up, and the walls were abandoned."

"Hm, our prey may be within reach at last. Get the army moving! We won't let them escape this time."

"What of the house?"

"They won't be needing it. Return it to nature."

Masses of bodies began shuffling through the trees as the forge and house were set alight. Though all passed, none bothered to look up or they might have seen the pale face watching them, watching, judging, fretting about how she was going to tell him.

… Witches three

The door stuck when they reached the top of the tower. Not naturally stuck, agreed all who could sense such things. Harry gave the magicked wood a disdainful look and blasted it into tiny splinters, stepping through the threshold with fearless bravado.

The witches stood behind a massive bubbling cauldron staring at the crowd that shuffled in behind the wizard, eyeing the minotaur particularly.

"Traitor," the old one growled, glaring fiercely.

Of the three she looked most like the stereotypical witch and not merely in her manner of dress. Beneath the black hat was a crooked nose, longer than most, with skin so wrinkled she could have been carved from wood, if not for the eyes which betrayed a rod of pure steel running through her.

At the other end, a plump older woman with snaggle teeth, also sporting the traditional black hat and dress, grinned at them in wicked sort of way. It was oddly salacious, like she was sizing them up for a bit of fun once the whole thing was over.

In the middle, was an odd sight. She wore the hat, like the other two, but her dress was something else. Oddly colored like she'd tried to dye it several times and changed her mind as to what color each time. Her hair was worth its own analysis, though having been friends with Hermione Jane Granger, it wasn't really 'that' bad in Harry's mind, sort of like Sybil Trelawney, without the bug-eyed glasses.

All of this was secondary to the woman as a whole, whose entire presence possessed all the fortitude of a wet rag, soppy, that was the word. It was, Harry thought, why she stood in the middle, bolstered on both sides by the more solid witches.

All three held broomsticks.

"Fancy you lot gettin all the way up here," the plump witch remarked with a mad cackle, an expression her shape seemed well suited to.

"You won't be getting back down," said the old one with steely venom, still eyeing the minotaur.

Harry felt that was his cue to make a snappy remark, but the old one with the iron cut him off before he could begin. Swinging her broom under the cauldron threw up a trio of flaming projectiles.

Harry thought her aim was off as they would easily pass to his side when he realized he was not the target. The minotaur shuffled back but with nowhere to go he could not hope to dodge. He never needed to, Harry popping in front of him raised his wand and swatted all three into the wall.

This proved fortuitous as they exploded with enough force to open the wall up to reveal the outside. Harry looked at the hole, then looked at the witch who stared back with a scowl that seemed capable of conjuring tacks just so they could be spit.

"So, I guess offering you the chance to surrender would be pointless?"

Another fireball answered his question and the rest took that as the signal they could attack. The other two witches seemed to have been waiting for this, mounted their brooms and rose into the air. The older witch swung at the first goblin to come within range then ran for the opening in the wall, leaping out in an apparent suicide.

This turned out to be untrue as she returned a moment later riding her broom.

"Always have to be so dramatic," the plump one remarked, taking a large bottle from somewhere, popping the cork and slugging back enough to man up a sailor.

"Don't just hover there, get the cauldron," the old one shouted, conjuring fire in her hand and hurling it at those now gathered around the bubbling brew.

There was a general ducking for cover to avoid fiery death and in the interim the cauldron hovered off its moorings to float at an even level with the witches, well out of reach.

"You're not the only one who can throw fire around," Harry challenged as the old witch joined the other two around the cauldron.

"Maybe," she said, "but we can do a lot more than that."

Giving a sharp whistle, a rush of strange noises erupted around them, like dozens of oversized bats had suddenly woken up and found dinner set out before them, and they, so famished, they completely forgot their manners.

Dark bodies leapt from the shadows, slashing with talons and claws, and glaring with glowing red eyes. Weapons clanged off skin too hard to penetrate with weak goblin muscle and poorly aimed arrows. Gabby's hammers were the first to manage a fatal strike, crumbling a head to bits of rubble.

"Cursed gargoyles!" someone shouted.

But they weren't the worst of it, not by far. While the invaders were distracted with the gargoyles, the witches were conjuring up something else. The cauldron roiled furiously, bubbling with an ever-growing frantic energy.

Even the gargoyles recoiled with it reached its peak, screaming like a kettle ready to pour, the concoction blasted out of the cauldron, taking off most of the roof as it shot up, up, up, and out of sight.

"Well, I'm almost certain that wasn't supposed to happen," said the plump witch.

"Too much yarrow root, do you suppose?" wondered the soppy one.

The older one rubbed her face as she stifled a growl, "Of all the stupid… let's just do the snake then."

Fighting resumed as the three witches brought their brooms together and began a brief conjuring (brief being roughly five minutes with two do overs because some people just can't keep a rhythm) which ended in a massive serpent slithering into existence, and just when they'd finished off the last of the gargoyles.

The goblins who were nearest scrambled back while even the lizardmen, who may have been distant cousins to the slithering giant, steeled themselves.

"Stupid snake," Boren chuffed, snorting and scuffing the floor.

"Maybe less stupid than you think," said Harry, stepping away from the bunched-up group and approaching the serpent who looked at him curiously.

"Can you understand me," he hissed.

The snake tilted its head, "I can understand you," it hissed in reply.

Harry smiled, feeling elated. It was thus far the most civilized conversation he'd had with a snake. "I do not wish to fight you. Will you move aside?"

The snake considered the question, then turned to the ones who'd summoned it.

"Eat him."

"They say I must eat you," the snake hissed.

"Well, poo," Harry muttered as it distended its jaw and made to swallow him.

Before he could raise a wand in his defense, a bovine battle cry preceded a flying bovine with a sword slicing the serpents head off in a single stroke. The body, now disconnected from the head, flailed in a panic, the only bit of instinct not kept exclusively in the head.

Being so thick and so long it's flailing managed to reach the cauldron, swatting it into the watching witches who suddenly found their brooms all tangled, not only with each other but with their very heavy cauldron.

"Oh! Hey now!"

"Watch your bloody foot!"

"Oh dear! Oh my! Look out below!"

The tangled, cursing heap circled the inside of the tower, ricocheting off the walls and ceiling before crashing to the floor in a heap with so little dignity it was embarrassing just to watch.

It looked at first like the crash might have finished them off, but then the invaders heard the sure signs of life.

"Where did either of you learn to fly?"

"Oh, is not so bad. Any landing you can walk away from I always say."

"Oo! Oh! I think I sprained something."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. Just… something."

Yes, twas the sound of complaining. If there's one thing you must know, the dead are never so malcontent.

All sounds of complaining died away when the three witches pushed the cauldron off and found themselves at the end of a large number of pointy objects, one large hammer, an angry fairy, and a wizard, arguably the most concerning though the only thing he had pointing at them was his eyes.

"Surrender," it was not a request.

"Or don't," said the minotaur, pointing his sword meaningfully at the old one who, despite being in no sort of position, refused to flinch.

"Now, Boren," Harry said not unkindly, "they did go to all the trouble of defeating themselves for us. We can spare them a moment to answer a few questions."

"Don't need all of them for that," the minotaur countered, eyes never leaving the witch.

"Go on you great slab of beef. Do your worst."

She had a way with words, and he looked like he'd take her up on the offer. Hot steam fled his nostrils and muscles went taut with tightly coiled fury.

"You are going to die witch."

"You should have died when you were calved, cull."

Harry didn't know what a cull was, but it seemed to set his new friend off. Eyes bulging, he drew back the sword and would have put it through the provocateur if Harry hadn't stepped in front of him.

"Boren, wait!"

But Boren wouldn't wait. He tried to shove Harry aside, but was instead dragged along as Harry apparated across the room, tumbling on the landing which sent the already disoriented minotaur to the floor.

"Boren, please, wait," Harry begged, but the minotaur wasn't listening.

He fumbled for the sword and staggered to his feet. Harry confronted him again, staring him hard in the eye. "Boren, it's alright. It's alright," he said in a placating voice. "It's alright."

The minotaur clearly didn't agree, but he was now caught in the wizards gaze and Harry kept pushing, "It's alright Boren. You're tired. It's alright. Rest now. It's alright."

Consciously or unconsciously he tried to resist, but he was tired, and there was balm in the wizard's eyes, so green, so peaceful.

The sword clattered to the ground and Harry's magic caught him before he did the same, lying him gently on the floor.

"Quite the stare you've got wizard," the witch remarked. "Won't do you any good trying that on me."

"I wouldn't try that on you," Harry said, retrieving the blade he'd lent from the floor. "I think this will be overall more useful."

The sword lit with the glow of enhancement as he stalked across the floor and though she tried to hide it, the old witch gulped. That's to say nothing of the other two who noticeably moved away from the third as much as possible.

"I have questions, you will answer them. Question one, why did you attack us."

"You! You attacked us!" the old witch shouted defensively.

"YOU!" he boomed, "attacked us, without provocation. You and you're minion's downstairs. If not for that we wouldn't be here now. Why?"

Her lip trembled, but even with the sword at the tip of her nose she would not speak. It was the wet rag that spoke.

"It was my fault, I guess."

Harry considered the old witch, considered the soppy one, considered the sword, "Explain," he said, lowering the blade, but only just so.

"I… I foresaw you're coming. I told them you would be trouble."

This confession seemed to embarrass her, something Harry did not quite understand. "You were right. Congratulations."

But she shook her head, "I just told them you would be trouble. I didn't know what kind. They just assumed the rest. I never told them to attack you."

"Well what else were we supposed to do with trouble," grumbled the old witch.

"She does have a point," the plump one agreed.

"Is talking your problems out not a thing people can do," said Harry, quite frustrated that he seemed to be the most reasonable person in the room, a thing he was not accustomed to at all.

"Well, I spose we could listen to ya now," the plump witch offered, then cringed when he slammed the sword into, and subsequently halfway through the floor.

"Guuuaaaaaah!"

"Oh dear, he's going to be dramatic again," Rosebud mumbled behind him.

And yes, he was.

"POINTLESS! This was all pointless. All we wanted to do was get the lizardmen from one side of the wall to the other side of the wall. All of this, the fighting, the KILLING, all of it, for nothing. A refusal to communicate. A problem that could have been solved in two minutes."

He broke off into inarticulate growling which Rosebud found most amusing, though none of the others saw the humor in. All the while Boren snored in the corner.

"So, are you still, planning on killing us?" the plump witch wondered aloud.

"I don't know, do you think I should?" he shot back with manic sarcasm, then went back to his growling.

"I don't think he should," she whispered to the soppy one.

"Oh hush," she replied, showing slightly more iron than a wet rag.

"Would it be too much for you to leave then, now that you've got what you want."

Unbelieving eyes turned to the old witch, even the two behind her could barely believe her brass.

"You can't be serious," said Hamma.

"Actually, she looks like she's never been anything but serious," Bill pointed out.

"Ridiculous!" Gabby exclaimed.

"I agree," said Rosebud. "I think rules of conquest apply here. If anyone should be leaving it's you lot. By rights, this tower belongs to Harry now I should think."

Silence reigned… until.

"Well, bugger!"

"Oh please, please don't make us leave."

The old witch made no complaint but this itself was a sort of complaint, it was all in the look. Even out of the corner of his eye he could see it, even if he didn't quite know what it meant.

He was still considering the pleading of the soppy one when a frantic owl burst into the room and headed straight for his head. Still keyed up from the fighting his reflexes were spot on and his arm was out just in time to avoid a head to head collision.

"Woah! Heddy, easy. Easy girl. What's the matter with you?"

"Poor thing," the soppy one said, forgetting her own position at the sight of a creature even more distressed. "I wonder if something attacked her."

"Did something attack you Heddy?" Harry asked, attempting to interpret the hops, squawks, and screeches. "Really wish I understood what you were trying to tell me."

The owl paused in its frantic antics, looking around the room as though preparing to reveal some great secret. Then, "Would… would it really help?"

The room stared.

"Yes. Yes it would," said the wizard, too full of… something, to be surprised. "How long have you… I mean, when did you… you know what, not important. What had you all worked up just now?"

"The forge!" she squawked.

"My forge!" exclaimed Gabby. "What about my forge?"

"Destroyed. All destroyed."

"Destroyed? But how…" or, "who?"

"The Ashe."

That's what he was afraid of, "They caught up."

"Worse," said the owl. "Whole army now. They destroy the forge and are headed this way."

"Oh my," said Bill.

"That's putting it mildly," said Rosebud. "Harry? What do we do?"

Why was she asking him? "I don't know. Panic." Sounded about right, under the circumstances.


	34. Chapter 33

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 33 – Taking stock

…

"Panic? Really? That's your idea?"

"I never said it was a good idea."

It was unfair, blatantly so. They'd just finished one prolonged uphill battle, now there was another headed their direction. Unfair… just… unfair. And she expected him to just have a plan for it all. The expectations were just completely—unfair.

"We wit you boss," one of the goblins shouted

"Yeah! We got dis."

A general support echoed from his minions, and that was unfair too. It was a testament to their faith they could still be so positive. Half those that had come in with him were already dead, yet the remaining half were still ready for more.

He didn't know what to say. The words literally escaped him, slippery bastards.

"Heddy! How long before they get here?"

"Hours?" she moved about his arm as she thought. "Big army. It won't move fast through the trees. They had boars."

"Boars?" If they were Caladonian boars he was going to cry.

"Can I just ask, why is an army of Ashe looking for you?" asked Gabby.

"I bet I can guess. Big strappin lad like im," said the plump witch, again with the salacious look.

"You hush," said Harry, causing the fat witch to cackle madly. "The army thing is new. We got away from their hunters a couple weeks ago. I thought we lost them."

"You don't lose the Ashe," said the old witch. "They hold a grudge like no one else."

"Even you," the plump one added to the ire of the old one.

Harry let the chuckles and growls run for a time, time enough to think, if only just a bit. His instincts were quite clear where they stood on the matter, as they usually were. But the thinking brain, his reason, the one that was sat at the head of the court, it had to point out the obvious flaw, the ultimate truth, the things he didn't want to hear.

"What do we do?"

He looked at the vampire who stared back devoid of her usual snark and sass, gazing at him with that innocent child face, the sight of which turned his instincts to traitors who sided with reason and started plotting.

"Alright," he said, quietly, more to himself than to her. She smiled anyway.

"Listen up!" he shouted, and all eyes turned to him. "There's an army on the way, and let it never be said that Harry Potter didn't know how to show the proper, hospitality."

The goblins and lizardmen chuckled, as he turned to the witches who looked back, a triumvirate of uncertainty. "But first, what to do with you three?"

… Just five more minutes

"Boren? Boren!"

The minotaur rousing was a slow process. The opening of his eyelids required much work from the rest of his face, nose twitching, ears flicking, even the mouth had to move around before things could really get into motion.

A hot steamy exhale shot from his flaring nostrils as his eyes rolled forward and focused on the wizard. Then he saw the witch standing behind him and things returned to focus. He tried to sit up but the wizard, seeing his demeanor, held him down with a strength he'd not have expected of the human.

"Easy," he said, holding his gaze, eyes as hard as emeralds, and no glow.

"You spelled me," it wasn't a question and the wizard only nodding acknowledged. The minotaur chuffed a grin, "You got balls wizard. How long was I out?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Huh. What'd I miss?" he said this paying special attention to the witch paying him the same.

The wizard sighed, long and heavy, "Too much. There's an army on the way here, and I'm going to fight it. I could use your help."

The minotaur stared, his massive bovine eyes bulging like black stones before he broke out in a heavy bellowing laugh. "Balls wizard. Balls! So, who're we fighting?"

"Not sure what's all in it, but there's Ashe at the head."

"Pig shit!" the minotaur cursed. "You do know how to pick a fight."

"Spose I do. You in?"

"Are they?" he asked, noting the other witches nearby looking very much not dead.

"I need all the help I can get, and they do owe me for, you know, not killing them."

"You trust 'em?"

"Can always kill them later."

Again, the minotaur laughed, "I like you wizard… Harry. I'll fight with you. What do we do?"

… That's bull

"You're serious. You tied all your wards to that cauldron?" a cauldron which was now cracked all the way through, the gemstone once at the bottom now a fine silicate dust.

"It's really the best way to do it," explained the plump witch as they all trudged down the stairs. "How'd ya think we got them ruddy big fireballs. T'ain't no one witch what can throw around spells like that."

"If you say so," Harry said, shaking his head.

"I does say so lad," the witch replied with a familiar smugness, the kind he usually associated with Rosebud.

Speaking of sassy females with names, "What am I supposed to call you lot anyway. Something a bit more than 'Hey you' might be useful, no."

"Well, you can just call me Nanny," said the plump witch, by far the most personable of the trio, "This'un ere we just call Granny," the taciturn archetype who glared at being mentioned, "And this one, uh, well…"

"Marigold," the soppy one interjected, earning her a look from the wizard she wholly misinterpreted, "Yes, yes, it's a silly flower name, I know."

"What's silly about flower names?" Harry asked. "My mother's name was Lily."

"She nice," the minotaur asked, filling the silence made deafening by the blush coming off the soppy one.

"Don't know. She was murdered when I was a year old. I was raised by my aunt and uncle… they weren't."

Passing through the carnage of the rooms hastened their steps till they at last reached the minotaur room where the ox headed minotaur still slept, held down by the transfigured floor, metal collar still around his neck.

"Remove that," Harry commanded.

Nanny scurried forward when Granny looked ready to object. A clink and a clank and the collar came free. Cautiously, Harry enervated the minotaur who came around even slower than Boren.

"Can you understand me?" Harry asked, but the ox head just stared blankly like he hadn't even heard… oh, right. "Unplug his ears?"

Twitching his open ears, the ox minotaur stared, intent yet perfectly docile. Taking a chance, calculated, knowing Boren was within easy reach, he undid the transfigured prison and offered his hand to the minotaur.

The minotaur continued to stare.

"Just take it, we don't have all day," said Boren.

"Why?" the ox asked, speaking at last.

"There's an army on its way. We need every hand to fight them," said Harry.

The ox groaned, whined almost when he said, "I don't wanna fight. All we done since getting here is fight and I don't wanna anymore."

Harry wondered if the 'here' he referred to was the witches tower or the world in general; given all he'd heard and seen it could be either one. "I'd like to think I can talk it out, but I don't have much hope of that working. The Ashe being quite unreasonable by nature as I've come to learn."

The mention of the Ashe got a similar reaction from the ox as it had the others, though he still wasn't any more keen to fight. With great reluctance, and the speed associated with such, the ox hauled himself from the floor and joined the team, under protest.

… Empty the closets

The kobolds met them at the bottom of the stairs, tails wagging as granny stepped out, teeth bared when Harry followed after.

"Alright! That's enough out of you lot!" the acerbic witch snapped, cutting off the growl with a whipped dog whimper. "By right of conquest, the tower now belongs to the wizard. He is your new master."

A series of questioning sounds followed this statement, but the old witch gave no time for them to turn into words. "More importantly, there is an army headed our direction and the wards are gone. I need everyone on the walls now! Prepare for a siege."

The crowd of kobolds scurried to their task, but a few remained behind, against their better judgement no doubt, mincing and whimpering like they had to use the newspaper but didn't know how to ask.

"What!"

"It's just," the bravest one said, "there's that bunch near the gate what is turned to stone. What is we supposed to do about them?"

"Yeah, my brother's one of 'em," a slightly less brave kobold barked, followed by a whimper.

The whimper became a flinch became a burning desire to be anywhere else when Harry stepped forward, "Your brother, you say."

His head nodded in the affirmative, despite the contrary orders from his brain which couldn't decide what he ought to do but were seriously considering something involving the bladder.

"Then you should be able to explain to him what's going on. Good. Come with me," said Harry, setting off for the door then stopping, "Come to think of it. Can one of you three do something about those skeletons so they won't attack us?"

"Skeletons was attached to the wards lad," said Nanny. "Taint nothin but bone now."

"I think I could do something about that," said Rosebud. "And once we collect your pack, maybe add some zombies to the line as well."

Harry smiled, "Right, forgot about them."

His first encounter with humanity had left a foul taste in his mouth, but that wasn't all he walked away with. Apart from the zombie she'd used to drag him out of the river, there had been another seven corpses lying about like driftwood on the shores further up toward the mine.

Rather than dispose of them, he'd turned all of them, the mobile one included, into small wooden dolls which he'd then stuffed into his pack so the vampire could play with them later, which she did. Come to find out, his transfiguration did not undo her necromancy.

"Harry!" Gabby jumped in before he could run off, "There may be some weapons back at the forge we can use. I keep a secret cache some ways behind the forge, hidden in the woods. If you could do that… teleport you do?"

"Can those zombies use weapons?" he asked the vampire.

"Not well," she said. "But a sharp tool or heavy implement swung around with zombie strength can do a lot of damage even if it does lack finesse."

Harry nodded, filing away several questions for later consideration, "Heddy. Fly back to the forge and see if they left anyone there."

The owl hooted, bobbed twice then took to the air.

"Alright! The rest of you, empty out the closets. Bring out anything and everything we can use."

Striding with purpose toward the gate the kobold scurried to keep up. Rosebud, accustomed to his long stride, skipped girlishly, easily keeping pace, unlike the half goblin who was forced to scurry like the kobold.

It was a few wand strokes to undo his transfiguration, by which point Cherry had appeared, carrying his pack. Where she had stowed it, he didn't know and knew better than to ask.

Un-stoning the skeletons had the combined effect of making them not only bone, but also properly dead again. Rosebud quickly went to work while he went digging for the zombies. She had one getting to its feet as he pulled out the last wooden doll and reverted them to full size living dead.

"Ugh! That is rank!" Gabby exclaimed.

"Water rot," said Harry; Rosebud said nothing, jumping from one skeleton to the next.

Harry, with not to do but wait, looked out at the tree line. The owl had said it would be hours, but he never felt he was that lucky. They'd be there soon enough. And he needed to be ready.

He considered the field. He was still considering the field when the last of the skeletons rose and the owl returned.

"There are two. Left behind or straggling behind. They have pig heads."

"Orcs," said Rosebud.

"Are they resistant to magic?" Harry asked.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Swords?"

"Definitely not."

"Good," he said with maybe a little more malice than necessary. "Heddy, you stay here with Rosebud. Gabby, take my hand, this could be a bit rough."

The half goblin looked at his hand like she expected it to bite, an odd color coming to her cheeks.

"Just do it already," said the vampire, swatting her hard enough to knock her into Harry.

The half goblin squeaked then vanished along with the wizard. The two reappeared outside the ruined forge, not three feet from a pair of ugly piggish humanoids who fell over themselves at the sudden intrusion.

While Gabby fought to keep down her stomach, Harry fought to part the pig heads from their bodies. A short bout of violence, he whipped the blood from his blade before returning to his passenger.

"You okay?"

"Is it—oo, ugh… is it always like that?" she moaned.

"It's always hard for first timers," at least that's what he'd been told. "Come on. We need to get those weapons and get back before that army."

Gabby nodded, staggering a bit unsteadily as she led him around her decimated home and into the woods to a large old tree. Grabbing what looked like a bit of holly, she opened a masterfully hidden door and pulled out an old, long box.

"What's in here then?"

"Swords mostly," she said, going into the hollow for another. "I like making swords. There's so many different kinds."

"Ever use any of them?"

"Tested. Never really had to do much fighting, not like that. That idiot on the pig was… well… have I told you how much I appreciated what you did?"

There was that color in her cheeks again. He might have wondered about it if they weren't in such a hurry. "Don't worry about it," he said, gripping the boxes and the half goblin before disappearing again.

He had barely returned, and Gabby was again bent over fighting her stomach's natural inclinations, when he was accosted by a frantic Elwin dragging him across the tower to a room at the back, one of those they hadn't been able to open.

Well it was open now, and Granny was shouting furiously at something hiding in the shadows while Nanny tried her best to calm Granny and cajole the hidden… whatever it was.

"She won't come out," said Bill by way of explanation. "Granny yells at her, but she ain't got one of them collars so they can't make her, and she just keeps hissing at them."

"No, not hissing," Harry hissed, frightening the small man who stood frozen as Harry marched into the quarrel.

"You get out here now you! We're all for it, they won't spare you just cuz you didn't fight now quit yur skulkin and get out here!"

The old witch's fury made the various furrows in her face appear even deeper. She looked like someone had taken the oldest, twistiest bit of driftwood they could find and turned it into a person. An angry person.

"No! Never! Will die first. You may be master here, but you are not my master!" the voice hissed furiously, causing Harry to return in kind.

"I AM MASTER HERE!" he hissed like a thousand-year-old serpent.

A stunned silence answered back from the shadows. She clearly hadn't expected such a reply, and he was, almost certain, the one hiding was female. It sounded right and looked right as well when she slowly slithered out of the dark recess, revealing an amalgam form. A woman's torso adjoined to a serpent's body.

Though this was not the most striking thing about her, not the cool gray blue coloration of her scales that ran from the serpent tail up the sides of her torso, across the shoulders of her four arms, speckling the cheeks and forehead under a fringe of black hair that ran in a long tail down her back.

No, the most striking thing, as he stared, was how she stared back, or didn't.

"You are blind," he hissed.

"I do not need eyes to see you," she replied, slithering forward to a sudden halt when the manacles on all four wrists ran out of give.

"What are you?" he asked.

A rude question, even if asked without malice. The serpent woman was much affronted, crossing her arms, after slithering back far enough. "So, it is not enough I am chained in this place, now my very kind must be forgotten! Outrageous."

"Are you going to tell me or are you just going to pout?"

The serpent girl squawked. "I do not pout," she declared sourly as her lower lip protruded dominantly.

She may have been protesting but even he, socially retarded as he often was, could tell it was an act. She hated Granny, that was true, but she was talking to him, more than that even, she wanted to talk to him. She kept glancing like she was waiting for him to say something else; she wanted him to say something else.

"What is your name?" seemed like a good place to start.

"What does it matter?" she fired back primly.

"If I am to ask for your help, it seems only polite I should know your name."

Fearlessly he walked closer, easily within the range of the give of her chains. He heard Nanny trying to discreetly call him back, but he ignored her. The serpent girl did not ignore him.

"You are either very stupid or very brave," she said.

"Fine line," he replied. "What is your name?"

She considered. "Kali," she said at last.

"I need your help Kali."

She snorted, "Yes, you wish me to fight for you."

"I wish you to fight with me. It's me they're here for. I'll not ask to be protected, but I can't fight an entire army by myself and hope to win."

"At least you have some sense."

Her remark was acerbic, but he could tell there was little venom in it. He knew venom.

"Please, Kali?"

She visibly squirmed at this entreaty, doubtless a word she had never heard from the witches, please.

"Well, if I am to do anything then you must remove these," she said, presenting her manacles. "Go on and fetch the key while I think about it."

"You've had your time to think," Harry said.

It was first year magic to unlock her manacles, even though he hadn't used the spell since Hogwarts, the iron bracelets clattered to the ground at a snap.

A moment of stunned shock was followed by vicious action. Her body surged, four hands seizing him with surprising strength, shoving him to the floor as her mouth opened revealing vicious fangs that pressed in, inches from his face.

"No!" he commanded, not her but the others who moved to aid him.

"Are ye mad!" Nanny cried. "She's going to kill you."

"No, she won't," he said.

"I will," she hissed, pressing in closer, a hairs breadth.

"No, you won't," he hissed back, tranquil as a stream. "You won't kill me."

"How do you know I won't?"

How did he know? "You won't."

His confidence was absolute, she was taken aback. Fangs slid back and the face of a vicious predator became a somewhat confused girl.

"You do not know what I am, yet you believe I will not kill you. Madness."

"Maybe," he acknowledged. "But I think it matters less that I know what you are, than who you are."

"You hardly know that either."

"True," he really was crazy; oh well. "But I think, despite our appearances, we aren't so different, not in the ways that matter. What we really want. Home, friends… someone to talk to."

Perhaps it was her blindness that made her face so expressive, but he knew he'd hit the nail on the head and he left it there, left it for her to do with what she would. The ball was in her court.

"What is your name wizard?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Still holding him, she pressed herself in close, nose to nose, holding herself just over him, "Harry Potter," she said, then smiled. "I will fight with you, Harry Potter."


	35. Chapter 34

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 34 – Divide and… conquer?

…

"Ah! Minerva, Dolores, do come in. Take a seat, take a seat."

It was early morning at Hogwarts as the two women sat before their new master. The night had been long and full of concern. The whipping of Ron Weasley had created no small tizzy, and everyone was feeling anxious.

You wouldn't have known it to look at them though.

Dolores Umbridge, larger than life and twice as repulsive, squashed into her chair with an audible creak. Her face betrayed a sense of smugness and self-assurance that bordered on delusion. From her perspective, things were going exactly as she wanted, she was in control.

Minerva McGonagall betrayed nothing, as was typical for the stoic Scot. Her exterior was as hard and polished as lacquered oak, her face stern but otherwise blank. Inside was another matter entirely. Ron Weasley may have been a hot-blooded fool, but he was still one of her lions, and unlike the woman next to her, she had a feel for the student body, and that body shuddered.

"So glad the two of you could join me this morning. I know you're both very busy."

"Nothing so important it couldn't wait," said Umbridge in her simpering girlish voice. "We are ever at your service."

McGonagall bit back a snide comment, she was getting a lot of practice at it. "What do you require of us?"

"Ah, right to the point Minerva. I'll keep that in mind. I've asked the two of you here this morning because it's become apparent, I'm not using the two of you to the maximum effect. You understand, too much overlap. You both seem to be doing many of the same tasks, just at different times and I think that's wasteful. I really don't need two of you in this position."

"So, we're being sacked," McGonagall stated bluntly. "One of us."

"Well, it's not exactly how I'd put it," he replied.

"No, you'd take an entire minute to say what should take a few seconds," McGonagall shot back, her usual filter, the one that kept her from saying all the nasty things that popped into her head due to being surrounded by idiots and debutants, was underperforming for some reason.

Strangely, he thought it was funny.

"Shall we consider this your audition Minerva? I'm not sure how you'll beat that," he chuckled.

"Perhaps we'll let Dolores go first," said the wily old witch.

The toad, seeing the trap but thinking herself too clever to be caught, gave her obnoxious little "hem, hem," before launching into an extended reading of her 'credentials'.

A laughable farce, McGonagall thought. A joke so funny, she'd forgotten to laugh. The way she narrated her 'accomplishments' made you think she truly believed every word. McGonagall was no fool, and she'd watched the woman like a spiteful eagle since she'd stepped foot in Hogwarts.

What she wouldn't have given for one of Dumbledore's lemon drops as she listened to the unctuous woman shovel her load of horse manure. The taste would have been slightly less sour than the one sitting on her tongue as she forcibly held it tight till the toad finished.

"Well, I must say that is an impressive resume Dolores."

"I've done my best," she said in a display of humility so fake it was almost believable.

"Minerva! Anything you'd like to say?"

There was a lot she'd 'like' to say, but it would hardly be productive. The old witch stood, straight as a ruler, when she spoke, "When I first came here it was to teach the children. To guide them, look after them, and lead them to a better future through a good, solid, magical education.

"Things have changed since then, but what has not changed is my priorities. I still believe, unequivocally, that my duty, first and foremost, is to the safety and well-being of the children. Secondly then would be the safety and well-being of everyone and everything else in the castle. The dwarves, the satyrs, the… golems?"

She paused a moment, looking to the blue man who simply shrugged. Most golems didn't require much looking after.

"I suppose even you must be counted in that. It is no easy task, as the events of last night proved, but I believe we can achieve some sense of harmony, and I consider it my duty to Hogwarts and its inhabitants to foster that harmony in any way I can."

Having said her piece the old witch sat, refusing to look at the other woman, no doubt scowling as she stewed over all the bits of McGonagall's speech she could have stolen for her own; waiting for the blue man's decision.

"You both present an excellent case," he said after much internal deliberation. "I shall have to think on this. Why don't we reconvene on this after dinner? I should have a decision for you by then."

… So close, yet so far

"Harry! We have a problem."

He allowed himself a smirk while maintaining focus on what he was doing. "Tell me something I don't know," he said, screwing the last metal spike into the weapon he was making for Boren. He congratulated himself for being a packrat, knowing he'd find a use for those spikes eventually.

"Hamma says he's leaving."

"WHAT!"

The huge, spiked club quivered, nearly falling. Harry caught it at the last second and lowered it gently to the floor next to Gabby who was wrapping a leather binding around a large wooden mallet. She barely glanced up from her work.

"You wanna say that again."

"Hamma says he's leaving, and he's taking the others with him," Rosebud repeated.

"Is that so?" His sense of betrayal stirred to action, fanning the cold fires which grew colder still when he saw the megalithic lizardman approaching.

The lizard saw his expression and knew without asking, "She told you then."

"You're leaving."

The accusation in his tone was fierce but the lizardman showed no remorse, "Been talking to the witches. Our village is only one hard day's travel from here. If we leave now, we can be there by nightfall."

"Well, that must be very nice for you," said Harry, voice dripping with scorn, "but how does that help me."

Again, no remorse, "If you can hold the line, maybe a lot."

Betrayal scoffed, but waited to hear the rest, "How's that?"

"There are many in our tribe, nearly two hundred. Some are young but we were not the only hunting party sent out. If the others have returned as I believe they should, we can bring them back, bolster our forces here and break them."

Reinforcements? Dare he hope? Shame snuck up and beat betrayal over the back of the head, kicking sand into the cold flames which died with a pitiful sputter. He could believe, he could hope, because of a single word. 'Our' forces, he said.

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"What for?" the lizardman asked.

"When I heard you were leaving, I automatically jumped to the worst conclusion. I never even gave you a chance to explain."

"So you're not perfect," Gabby interjected, joining the conversation as her work was completed. "Do you always expect so much out of yourself?"

"Shouldn't I?"

The half-goblin smiled at his question, but before she could explain why, Bill ran up in a tizzy.

"Harry! HARRY!"

"What is it?"

"They're—they're here and—and—and…"

The small man was visibly shaking, his eyes locked open as wide as they would go.

Without asking Harry ran for the gate. The others quickly followed, Hamma picking up Bill and tucking him under his arm as he went.

The gate stood half open providing a clear view so when he arrived, he saw what had put the small man into such a state. They were here.

"Sweet merciful blood!" Rosebud exclaimed.

"The owl said there were hundreds at least. I thought maybe two or three," said Hamma.

There weren't two or three hundred, not even close. The force that poured from the tree line, row after row, had to number at least a thousand and more just kept coming.

"Close the gate!" Harry shouted.

The toothy portcullis slammed down behind them as they retreated into the tower.

"You're sure you can bring back help, Hamma?" said Harry.

"It will take some convincing," the lizardman allowed. "Our chief is very much of the mind we should not involve ourselves with the other races."

"What about the rest of your tribe?" asked Rosebud.

"They will do as the chief says," said Hamma.

"You really think you talk him into it?" said Gabby.

"Talk, perhaps," said the lizardman. "One way or the other, I will 'convince' him."

The way the big lizard held his hand when he said this, flexing the sharp deadly claws, Harry felt he understood the meaning.

"Go. Now!"

"I will need our supplies," he said, freezing the wizard midstride. "If we return from our hunt empty handed, we will convince no one. They will more likely eat us than listen to us."

"He's right," said Rosebud.

Thus, he was forced to accept it. "Cherry!" he shouted, summoning the fairy as if by magic. "Fetch my pack."

The little red-haired girl zipped away as Hamma went to prepare his people and Gabby went to finish her work, taking a shell-shocked Bill with her, leaving Harry and Rosebud alone.

"Where's your puppy?" he asked.

"With the others, why?"

"I want you to go with them."

She stared at him strangely, "Are you trying to protect me?"

"What if I was?"

"I'd say you were the biggest idiot I've ever met."

"Which is different than how you normally think of me?"

She scowled at his cheek but there were hints of a grin sneaking around the edges of that scowl. "You aren't serious?"

"About the protecting you, not really," he acknowledged. "But I am serious about you going with them. If I'm understanding correctly, convincing their chief will not be easy, nor even as not easy as Hamma thinks."

Glancing back at the gate, he could hear the army still piling out of the woods. "I don't know how long we can hold that back, and you aren't much good in a fight once the sun's up. Those undead will do their job, but you don't need to be here to make sure they do. You'll do all of us more good exercising your—political skills."

She laughed at this, "Politics is it. Oh yes, I'm very good at that."

"I knew you would be," said the wizard, matching her grin for grin. "Do what you have to. Get them back here as fast as you can."

He didn't know just how much he was asking, and for all his humor he was filled with urgency. She must have felt it as well. Without having time to blink he found a small girl child wrapped around his neck, squeezing tight in that way frightened children do.

"Stay alive," she whispered when he put his arms around her. "You'd make a terrible zombie, so you stay alive till I get back. You hear me?"

"I hear you," he said.

And far behind him, he heard an army coming to rest, and perhaps, behind that, the sound of destiny putting on the popcorn in preparation for one hell of a show.


	36. Chapter 35

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 35 – Or you could surrender

…

"You do good work wizard. This is very nice."

"Glad you like it."

Boren hefted his new weapon, testing the weight of the big, spiked club, properly called a goedendag. The ox had his mallet slung over one shoulder; no comment made; none was expected.

"Where's the naga?" Harry asked.

"Thought I saw her over by those weapons crates you brought back," said Boren, shouldering his weapon, fully satisfied.

"I am here," the hissing serpent tongue, though now speaking the common language, slithered into his ear moments before cool skin brushed past his neck.

"Find something you like?" he asked, dismissing his urge to shiver at the reptilian coolness of her embrace.

"I like this smith of yours," she said, releasing him so she could display her weapons. "It was clever of her to make four of them."

The weapons she held, because he wasn't sure 'sword' was the right word, were about a foot and a half at the furthest edge, an edge which curved and arced to a point which pointed inward. The blade was shaped like an odd C with the point looking to be designed for hooking.

"You know how to use these?"

"Of course. These are the traditional weapons of my people."

"Really?" huh, the more ya know.

"Harry! Harry!" the frantic owl called, winging to his quickly outstretched arm. "There's a party of riders breaking away from the army. They're coming this way."

It was starting.

"You three head for the gate. I'm going up to the wall."

Tossing the owl into the air, he disappeared and reappeared inside a small circle at the back corner of the wall closest to the tower. He'd set it up as an apparition spot so he wouldn't apparate into anyone.

The first to notice him nearly leapt out of his shaggy hide. The second merely gave an annoyed twitch of the eye.

"Good trick you've got. Bet that could take you pretty far."

He knew what the grouchy old witch was implying. He tried to ignore that he'd considered it not that long ago.

"And what good would that do me when someone's trying to invade my hard-won property," he replied, earning him another annoyed eye twitch.

He might have tried for a third, but heavier matters deigned spare her the aggravation when a loud voice called out.

"We want the wizard! Bring him out, and we will let you live!"

"Tch! Sure they will," the old witch growled.

"You don't think they would?"

"I wouldn't bet nuttin on it I'd care about losin," she said.

He didn't disagree, though he did wonder why she thought that. It began to dawn on him, his own experience may not have been unique, excepting the bit where he escaped.

"They're still too far out to shoot at," she said glaring past the crenellation to the advance party who sat proudly on their fine black horses awaiting a reply.

"Spose I ought to go down there," Harry said.

"You can't be serious."

Resisting a joke about his godfather, because it wouldn't have been funny since she'd never met him, "Can't hurt to try and reason with them."

"Yes it bloody well can. What do you hope to gain?"

What did he hope to gain?

"Insight," he decided.

Not giving her another chance to argue, or harangue him for his reckless bravado, he vanished from the wall and reappeared ten feet from the trio of horses who understandably started at his sudden appearance.

"Good morning," he greeted. "Lyraka, nice to see you again."

"It'll be nice when I see you hauled before my mother and whipped till we can see your bones," the Ashe woman seethed, once she had her horse under control.

"I think we have different ideas of what can be considered 'nice'. But anyway, you wanted to see me. Here I am. What can I do for you?"

The Ashe stared at him disbelieving, rage burning behind her eyes to the point of insanity, quenched with the closing of the lids and cooled with several long deep breaths.

"For reasons beyond my understanding," she said, "my mother wishes your return. I was elected to carry out the task of retrieving you."

"You drew the short straw, huh?"

And… third twitching eyebrow. Harry wins.

"It is my great honor to perform this duty for the glory of our queen Boudica," she said in a manner that made it all too clear the hands gripping her horses reigns desperately wanted to be gripping something else, and it was soooooooo close too.

"You keep squeezing like that your gonna pop something."

Yet he kept antagonizing her.

"Yooouuuu! Will come with me… nooooooow." The simple, albeit drawn out sentence, was growled through teeth clenched so hard they looked ready to crack.

The other Ashe waited behind her, a younger female and, by merlin they did exist, a male Ashe. He looked especially nervous, perhaps on account of being the closer of the two and most likely to get hit by the fallout of whatever Lyraka would do when she finally lost her temper.

Harry was rather curious to find out.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I've just moved in you see. I can't just go galivanting wherever I please now. I've got responsibilities."

Despite her proximity to danger, the younger female, dare he believe it, giggled. It happened quickly, blink and you miss it, but it was there. He was sure of it. So was Lyraka judging by the foul look she threw the girl.

"If you wish to be responsible, then know you 'will' be responsible for their deaths. We will kill all of them, slowly, painfully. But, you could spare them that."

Good cop, bad cop, a classic ploy, does not work when the same person is the good cop and the bad cop.

"You know, I would. Really, I would, but you see those green guys up there. When they heard you were coming, they were all excited for a chance to kick your ass. I just… it's not in me to deprive them of that. What kind of boss would I be if I took that away from them? You understand, don't you?"

No, no she didn't. Her face said as much without the mouth ever having to open.

"I will enjoy making you whimper like a little dog."

Her horse reared when she yanked on the reigns and started back to her army, but not before Harry could get in one last dig.

"So, does that mean you don't want to surrender?"

Back at the wall before you could blink, he could still hear her furious scream.

"Ahhh! It's like having Snape around, but with tits," he mused, conjuring a horrible image he mercilessly tried to banish as he trotted down the steps to the small group waiting just inside the gate.

"What did you say to her?" was the first question, which came from Gabby.

"Not much," he lied. "Seems her mother sent her out here to get me. She's a bit tense about that."

"I shouldn't wonder," said Bill. "Ashe are a matriarchal society. Her mother, whoever she is, is probably a very influential person among their people. It will reflect poorly on the mother if her daughter fails. They're very cutthroat, the Ashe."

Yet more information it would have been good to know before. The learning curve just kept angling up, and up, and up.

"What now?" asked Boren.

"Open the gate to half," he said, looking at the kobolds in charge of the gate. "Bill, I want you on the lever. If it looks like they're going to get through, shut it."

"But, what if you're still out there?"

"Shut it."

The small man didn't like that, there was mutiny in his eyes, but it never got to his heart. He nodded; reluctantly, he nodded.

"Gabby, you go upstairs, help with the defense on the wall."

"Are you sure. Maybe I should be on the lever. Bill's a better fighter than I am. He could do more on the wall."

"She's right about that."

This he knew, which is why, "I need Bill down here. If any of them do get through, he has a better chance of getting away than you do. And you have a better chance of getting through this with a lot of other bodies between you and them," he said, pointing to the shuffling force as the first attackers formed up into ranks.

She saw this, but still, "I want to help."

"You have helped," he said.

But not enough to her mind, he could see it in her posture, the obstinance. He was saved when two of three witches appeared, followed by Cherry, still hauling his pack around, and Heddy riding on Nanny's hat.

"They're lining up," said Nanny, which they could all see.

Harry nodded, "You headin up?"

The witch nodded, disturbing the owl who clung desperately. "You bess come with me miss. I can use as an extra hand. Don't know what good this one'll do," she said, making a rude gesture at the fairy.

"Take her with anyway," said Harry. "I don't want to see you down here. You understand."

Understand, she must have. If she didn't, she wouldn't have looked so put out and tried to yell at him.

"You know I can't understand you, and even if I could, you're not going to change my mind. Go with Nanny and Gabby. Keep that safe," meaning his pack. "There's dangerous things in there, not to mention a good amount of food we're going to want later… provided we're still alive," he mumbled the last bit.

Not quietly enough. The fairy dropped the pack to the floor and flung herself at his face, crying her tiny little eyes out.

"Oh, come on now. Don't do that," he said, trying to comfort the tiny girl but in the end having no choice but to hand her off to Gabby.

The half-goblin looked like she might try the same stunt but for the plump witch who snatched up his pack and whisked them away before she could act on the idea.

"You always this popular with the girls?"

Harry just shrugged. He could fully admit he was a bit clueless when it came to the opposite sex. Just when he thought he had them figured out they'd throw him another curve ball and it was back to square one.

"They're strange creatures Boren. Strange, strange creatures."

"Ehem! As one of those creatures I really must protest," said Kali.

"Maybe oughta wait till later," said the ox head, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand.

"Right, invading army. Let's go." Whew! Saved by the horde.

"So, what's the plan?" asked Boren.

"The undead are our first line," said Harry.

Rosebud had armed all her zombies and the four skeletons with the most simple and brutal weapons she could pull out of Gabby's armory. Axes and maces and war hammers, oh my. They would put the unnatural strength of the simple undead to its maximum effect.

"How do we know they won't attack us?" said Kali, tongue flicking furiously, unable to see but hardly unaware to her surroundings.

"We stay behind them," said Harry. "They have instruction to kill anything coming from that way," the tree line, "but I don't see any reason to tempt fate."

"You mean more than we already are," said Boren with a chuckle, a weak chuckle that died in his throat when they got a good look at what they were facing.

"Good grief," said the ox head.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. He hadn't gotten all that good a look at the army when he'd been riling up Lyraka. It was humbling, seeing so many bodies lined up and waiting to hurl themselves at him. Bah! He'd feel humble later.

"Kali, I want you on the left side. Boren and, and… huh." Embarrassing. "You know, I don't think I ever caught your name big guy," just told you to come and fight for me. "What am I supposed to call you?"

To his dismay, the ox minotaur just shrugged. To his greater dismay, so did Boren when he looked to him.

"We were ordered not to talk to each other," he explained. "Spose they didn't want us plotting together."

Sensible, if not frustrating. "Do you not remember your name? I gotta call you something."

"Whatever."

The ox's apathy, while present since he'd woken up, began to worry him. He was trusting the big bruiser with his life. And for the first time, he was having serious second thoughts about that. Putting them aside, because what choice did he have, he wracked his brains.

"Alright, how bout I call you… Charlie!"

"M'kay."

It wasn't much, but at least he didn't say no.

"Well alright. Charlie, you'll be center right while Boren will be full right. I'll be serving as mobile support once they get to us."

"Won't take much to get past them zombies," said Boren. "It's all open plain here, cept them bits of rock poking out. Don't remember them being there before."

"I did those yesterday when we tried to get in," said Harry. "Speaking of which."

Drawing his wand, he went to work pulling up several short walls extending back to the gate and narrowing toward them before fanning out again to gently surround them on either side.

"You move the earth?" the snake girl hissed nervously.

"It's called transfiguration," said Harry. "I didn't move the earth, just changed the shape."

"Couldn't a made them any taller," said Boren. "Those ain't gonna stop anybody."

A four-foot wall was a minor obstacle easily overcome. Even a child could climb over it. "I don't intend for it to stop them," and to emphasize his point, he raised up a six-inch block running from one end of the new bottle neck opening to the other.

They trio looked at him, or in Kali's case turned her face his direction. He just smiled and imparted that ancient bit of wisdom, "Watch your step."

The battle was soon to start. Horns blared and orcs squealed in bloodthirst anticipation. Lyraka rode up and down the lines rousing the crazed humanoids till they could stand it no longer and charged.

They passed the first cover, then the second, without issue. The arrows began to fly by the time they hit the third and as bodies fell, they found some sense and ducked under the makeshift shields. Those further back crowding into the first two while those further forward filled the two nearest their objective.

Arrows and stones rained down but to no effect against the heavy stone. They thought they were safe. A thought that was dispelled when one suddenly squealed in pain, only to be joined by others. Those barely under cover stared in horror as spikes grew out of the inner wall and punctured those hiding beneath.

The smarter ones ran when the stone began to shake. The slower ones made it just far enough to avoid being fully crushed when the cover that had saved them from the arrows slammed down with murderous force, killing anything beneath it in a bone breaking, blood squeezing press.

The orcs were stunned, which made them easy targets, which un-stunned them very quickly. Down on ground level, Boren chuckled, and Charlie shook his head at what they'd just witnessed.

"I smell blood," said Kali. "Lots of blood."

"You are full of surprises wizard," said Boren, a man who could appreciate a good spike.

"I thought about just getting rid of them earlier, but then I thought, maybe I'll do this instead."

"Good grief."

He hadn't meant it to be funny, the big ox, but Harry couldn't help but laugh. It would be the last time that day. The elation of success quickly faded as new ranks were formed and the next round rushed forward into a hail of arrows and stones.

This time, with nowhere to hide, there only choice was to run, so they did. They hit the undead line who swung their weapons with lifeless savagery, cutting and smashing orcs to bloody chunks, paying no heed to their own injuries, mindlessly carrying out their instructions, kill.

The line was staggered, and they were not fast. Orcs quickly began to slip through and thus fell to mallet, spike, and blade. For his part, Harry would have little recollection of that afternoon later, remembering only a long stream of fear, fury, body parts and blood while Boren screamed "GODENDAG!" with every swing of his weapon.

The night was long in coming.


	37. Chapter 36

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 36 – Diplomacy, with a knife

…

Evening lay over Hogwarts, quiet and still. Along the halls dwarves marched, sentries in the night. In the lord's office, once the headmaster's office, a judgement was being made… sort of.

"I can't decide."

He'd had all day to make a decision, and this was it. What a gyp!

"It really is quite the conundrum, I mean, you're both so competent."

McGonagall strongly disagreed with that statement, but wisely kept it to herself. She was doing that a lot lately. Probably wasn't healthy.

On her right, Umbridge sat, plotting no doubt. She knew the look, though it was typically associated with Fred and/or George Weasley. They were always good for a bit of plotting.

"I've got it!" he declared suddenly, "You'll fight for it."

"I beg your pardon," the unctuous toad queried, certain she hadn't just heard what she'd heard.

"You'll fight for it. A duel if you will. You wizards do that sort of thing I understand."

"Indeed," said McGonagall with just a hint of the vindictiveness that was coursing through her. "Filius was a ranked master before he joined us at Hogwarts."

"The short fellow? Marvelous! We can have him officiate," Co said grandly, ignoring the predatory smirk of the old scot or the panicked pale shade of the toad like woman. "Tomorrow looks to be rather busy so, let's set it for lunch the day after. We'll hold it in the great hall, where everyone can see it."

"Everyone? See it?" Umbridge croaked.

"Plenty of witnesses," McGonagall purred, "or volunteers to pick up the pieces."

… I see, better in the dark

"We should be there soon. I can smell the camp."

"So can I."

She wouldn't remark on the quality of that smell, which was foul on a number of levels with which she was familiar, as she surmised that to her traveling companions such odor was the smell of home, and not just the reek of muck, mire, rot and decay.

"Should we expect sentries?" the vampire asked as she loped along on the back of her wolf as the other wolves trailed on her left, the right reserved for the big lizardman who's lanky legs ate up ground like a starving dragon.

"There should be two at the edge of the camp. We will see how alert they are. Can you see anything?"

She could see a great many things. Her eyes glowed in the twin moonlight like a cat. Enhanced by magic that was her nature as a vampire, she stared through the darkness like knives through silk, making out at the far range of her vision something that looked like habitations of the crudest kind.

"What do you see?"

"Your village," she replied. "It's just over a mile and, yes, you were right. Two sentries."

"How are they?" he asked.

"They appear to be sleeping."

"Oh, do they?" Opening his mouth, the lizardman let out a strange cry, something between a banshee's wail and a lion's roar. "We'll see if that doesn't wake them up."

Them and everything for ten miles in any direction, thought Rosebud, hiding a little smirk.

… Just five more minutes

He was awake, at least, he thought he was.

The dark was dimming, he could feel it. Morning was creeping up, stealthy like a mouse. But he knew, he'd come to feel it in his time in the wild, where there were no alarm clocks or annoying roommates. Morning was coming, he must be awake.

The warm body snuggled next to him was not.

Cute, that's what she was. In sleep the half-goblin was the very picture of sweet innocence.

Huddled in the corner on the left side tower wall, he'd set down by order of the motherly old Nanny, fully intending to get up when she wasn't looking. Apparently, things hadn't gone quite as planned. He had to wonder when Gabby got involved. Was she there of her own accord, or had she been sent?

Hmm, probably not sent. She'd been giving signals he wasn't completely oblivious to. Not completely. Most likely she'd seen him asleep and capitalized on the opportunity. Thinking that way he decided she looked a little less 'innocent' than he'd originally thought.

"Well ain't that darlin."

The plump witch toddled out of the tower, whispering a cackle at the scene.

"Am I to assume you had nothing to do with this," said Harry, not yet cognizant enough to sound intimidating.

"I may lay claim to my fair bit o mischief," she happily admitted, "but this one didn't need any prodding from me."

This Harry knew, but it never hurt to be sure. "I trust I haven't missed anything?"

"They can't see in the dark," the witch said. "Those undead can though. The got a couple who thought they were sneaky. Other'n that, nothing to report."

"Good to know." Equally good to know that bit about the undead.

The day had been a long one, and the small number of undead was smaller by the end of it. Two skeletons, the lizardman ones, and a single zombie were all that remained. By some stroke of irony, the zombie that remained was the very same one that had pulled him out of the river some weeks back. He was roughed up, missing an arm and most of his clothes, but this meant little to a zombie.

Gently putting Gabby aside, he stood and went to the edge of the wall. Peering down he saw the trio standing, still as statues. The skeletons held their weapons, a mace and club, and the zombie listed slightly to one side, his two headed axe hanging loosely in his remaining hand.

At their feet, three fresh corpses. The rest from the previous day had been cleared away after the final retreat so these must have been the not so sneaky ones she'd mentioned.

"Where are the others?"

"The bulls are asleep down by the gate, they didn't go far," she said. "The snake complained of the smell and crawled back into her hole."

"The one you kept her in against her will?"

"Aye. Funny how people are sometimes."

Cupboard under the stairs. "Yeah. Funny."

"Mari's making up some breakfast for'em, and that short fella's working up bits a that hog you brought for the hounds and the gobs. At should keep us a while."

"Good." It was a welcome surprise. He hadn't brought it expecting a siege, but there he was, under siege, and there it was, keeping them fed. Speaking of fed.

"Ere, eat this," she said, handing him a doughy looking ball. "I made em last night. Give ya lots of energy."

"That so?" they didn't look like anything special, though considering who they came from he was still leery.

"Eat!" she ordered. "You'll need it if you're gonna use this."

From her bag she produced a fat bottomed bottle filled with a semi-clear blue liquid.

"What's that?" he asked between a mouthful of ball that tasted kinda like oatmeal.

"This me lad is what we call a mana potion," she said proudly. "It's a converter. Turns physical energy into magical energy. Wit all that castin you was doin yesterday I reckon you ain't topped off yet. You gonna be needing this."

The bottle was held in a complex bit of knot work with a large loop he slung around his neck crossways. She was right about the casting. His short walls had been conjured, though not literally conjured, specifically to give him fodder for transfiguration and it hadn't stopped there.

The walls hadn't been built with the idea that anyone would get close enough to use them as cover from those on top, but the walls were too tall for them to have any hope of climbing without help.

Those who managed to get past the wall defenders to the safety of the walls shadow had naturally rushed to the entrance, his small wall a barrier they could easily overcome. Except they couldn't, not when he lined it with spikes that shot out into anyone trying to get over it, then set the corpses on fire and banished them back into the mob.

It was gruesome, bloody work. Much of it was still a blur in his mind as he relived the carnage mentally.

A fierce squeal brought him back to reality. A familiar, detestable sound.

"They didn't use those yesterday," though he'd seen they were there.

"Probably thought they could overwhelm us with numbers," said Nanny. "Without the magic we had on this place, we're not so well defended."

"I think I have a few ideas about that," he said, but it was a concern for later. "Tell me something, those orcs that attacked us yesterday, they look different than the orcs I saw wrangling the boar."

"That's cuz those ain't orc's," said Nanny. "The only ones who can tame the Caladonian boar are the Aetolian boar-men. They ain't orc's, not by a long shot."

"What's the difference?"

"Everything. Boar-men come from the same world as the boars. Story goes they used to be human men. Depending on who's tellin it, they was either cursed, or blessed by their goddess into what they are now."

"And would that goddess have some connection to the boar?"

"Sent it down to punish… someone, or something. Not so sure on that bit."

"Are they dangerous? The boar-men I mean," he already knew the boars were dangerous.

"They make them orcs look like daisy flowers," she said. "They's all about the fightin. That's their whole way of life. It's why they ally with Ashe. Ashe is always fighting someone, even if it's just each other."

"Wonderful," they were the Spartans but with more pork.

"Hope you got a plan for em," she said. "They can't scale walls any better than the orcs, but they could sure make a mess of you lot down there."

That they could. Fortunately, this wasn't his first hog rodeo, nor even his second. Once the fatigue wore off, he'd learned a great deal from his second Caladonian boar. By the look of things, he'd be applying that knowledge very soon.

"How do I use this," he asked of the potion flask.

"Normally you'd want to drink the whole thing in one go. That's give a good big boost all at once, but only once. Just you sip on it a bit. The effect won't be so strong at first, but it'll go longer. You're gonna need it to go longer."

Harry considered this new information, "Is that dangerous?" he asked as she headed back into the tower.

"Compared to what," she rightly pointed out.


	38. Chapter 37

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 37 – According to plan?

…

"Minerva? You in?"

"Yes! Please, Filius, come in."

The tiny once professor wedge himself through the door, letting it close behind him.

"I rather remember that being easier before," he remarked. "Your door has gotten fat Minerva."

"It's the hinges. I think they're rusting. The humidity here is very different than it was back in Scotland."

"Well, we are very close to a swamp," he pointed out, pulling himself into the nearest chair. "So! Rumor has it, you're going to duel the toad."

The old Scot allowed herself a grin at her friend's reference to Hogwarts most maligned individual. "That's right. I suggested we have you officiate, just to keep things nice and fair."

"Rather be in the ring, tell the truth," the miniscule man said. "You've heard the things she's said. And right in front of me, like I wasn't even there. Galling, that's what it is. Like to put her in her place."

"If I remember, wasn't that why you started dueling in the first place."

His hot-blooded youth was well known within certain circles, of which she was privileged to be included.

"I never found the satisfaction I thought I would back then," he admitted, "but this is different."

"Indeed it is Filius. It's my turn now."

The tiny man smiled, "Indeed. And now that you mention it, we did have words, our new overlord and I. Lunchtime tomorrow?"

"That is the plan."

Flitwick looked at her oddly, "You say that like you think it won't happen."

"Oh, it'll happen," said McGonagall, "just not how or when it's intended, I suspect."

"You think she'll try something?"

It wasn't a matter of thinking; she knew the toad would try something. She just didn't know what, or when, but she was ready, whatever it was. "One way or another, the situation will be resolved to my satisfaction."

"It'll be an improvement anyway," said Flitwick. "Of all the people we could do without. Speaking of people without, I was just thinking about Hagrid yesterday and it occurs to me, has anyone told our new overlord about him."

McGonagall stared, then blushed ever so slightly, "I'll sound like a terrible person for this, but I'd completely forgotten about him till just now."

"So that's a no," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Yes, or rather, no," she said with some cheek of her own. "I should though. He should have been back already."

"Probably found some strange creature and decided to drag it back here as a pet."

"That would be just like him," she agreed. Normally she found his propensity for large dangerous things mildly annoying, yet as she thought about it, she could not help but feel it endearing.

"It'll be trouble when he hears about Dumbledore. No one more loyal to Dumbledore than Hagrid."

As someone who had been very loyal to Dumbledore, McGonagall could readily acknowledge this was true. Hagrid's loyalty to the former headmaster bordered on zealotry.

"We'll have to catch him early, before anyone else can tell him or he'll march right in here and started demanding vengeance."

"I'm sure Mr. Weasley would be the first one behind him."

"He would have been," and she gave a little smile, "but I think he has his hands full now."

"Hand's full is it," the tiny man said making a very suggesting gripping gesture that made McGonagall laugh.

"Filius! You're terrible."

"I'm a man Minerva, and just because their too young for me to do anything with doesn't mean I can't appreciate their assets. If memory serves, her aunt was an early bloomer too."

"Was she," the old Scot chuckled. "I don't remember. I must be getting old Filius, so many things, so many people I just don't remember any more."

Flitwick nodded, his humor draining to somber, "Have you told him about Harry?"

This decanted McGonagall's humor as well, "No. And I've no intention of doing so."

"You don't think he'll come back?"

"No Filius, I don't think he'll come back." The thought made her sigh. "We bunged things up rather badly with Harry I'm afraid. Very badly. He did so much, and we treated him like a child. He won't come back. If there was a bond left here strong enough for that he would never have left."

Flitwick nodded, having thought much the same thing himself. "What do you suppose he's doing right now."

And here, her grin returned, "If I know Harry, getting into trouble of some kind."

… I don't appreciate the insinuation

"They're coming in on the left!"

"I got'em!"

Boren charged the flank on the left, roaring a jaunty "GODENDAG!" as his might weapon crushed the orcs squeezing between Harry's makeshift wall and the thrashing Caladonian boar. Blood sprayed and one loose head went flying like a two base hit back into the oncoming crowd.

Kali wove her four swords in intricate movements, slicing orcs to bloody ribbons while Charlie pummeled the boar with his mallet as it struggled to free itself from the thick, muddy pit that held it.

Harry stood back, watching the pit while keeping an eye on any of the orcs trying to get over his wall. Only a few now were foolish enough to try. They had learned from their mistakes and the great pile of corpses they had built.

The high walls were a safer bet, and they had made ready the night before to take them. Crude ladders rushed them, slowed by the rows of spikes added just that morning to keep them from getting too close.

The ladders made it a mostly moot point, except for those knocked off.

Porcine cries of pain and death sounded from the walls as the defenders smashed, stabbed, and shoved the invaders to their death.

The orcs were easy enough, but the boar-men complicated everything.

"Kali! above you!"

A boar-man leapt off the back of the mud stuck boar, swinging an axe at the naga who turned just in time to parry the blow with two swords. The forced stunned her momentarily, a moment that would have proved fatal if Harry had not rushed in and cleaved through the superior pig humanoid.

"Are you alright?"

The naga shook her head, "I will be," she said, though he could tell she, like he, was seriously questioning it. "We're being overrun."

It was true. Even with the angry boar blocking the way the orcs just kept coming, mixing in a boar-man every now and then trying to catch them unawares. Boren had been hit twice and Charly was bleeding from the nose even as he hammered at the boar.

"We need some space," said Harry, popping one of Nanny's little food balls before taking a swig of the mana potion. "And I think I know how to make it. Watch my back."

The serpent girl coiled around him protectively as he prepared his magic. The Caladonian boar seemed to sense something was about to happen and it redoubled its efforts to liberate itself, all for naught when the earth moved and sent a three-foot deep block of earth hurtling through the oncoming horde.

This would have been much less impressive if the boar had not been attached to that earth and went squealing with it, plowing through the oncoming orcs.

"Wizard! The ladders!"

Turning his attention quickly to the wall he found six ladders on one side and five on the other firmly attached and weighted down with climbing orcs racing up the length.

"Shit! _Accio Ladders_!"

Eleven ladders jerked then flew away from the walls, hurling their occupants as Harry's magic took hold and slammed them down into a sort of wall in front of his rude fortification.

Not yet done, Harry leapt from his protected spot, jumped in front of the two minotaur, and unleashed a stream of fire greater than any other in his life. Orcs and boar-men squealed as their bodies were set ablaze and Harry drew out his spell on the ladder wall, setting it on fire as well.

The response to this sudden conflagration was immediate and expeditious. Those not yet on fire ran like they were, some even hurling down their weapons in order to run faster. Whatever motivated them to fight, fear, honor, or animal bloodlust, it was all overwhelmed by the instinctive desire not to be turned to charcoal and ash.

"Holy heifer!" Boren exclaimed.

"Good grief," Charlie agreed.

"It feels hot," said Kali. "Is there a fire somewhere. Are they throwing fire at us?"

"Not them," said Boren, as the blazing stream died away and Harry came marching back. "Not bad wizard. Think you might a overdone it a little?"

The minotaur chuckled, but Harry wasn't laughing. A pebble caught his toe, and a stumble became a faceplanting fall.

"Wizard!"

The three rushed to his side, Kali arriving first, freeing up two hands to examine him. "He is still breathing," she said.

"Take him," Boren ordered. "Get him back to the tower. We'll hold the line here."

Not needing to be told twice, the serpent girl hoisted the wizard onto her back and swiftly slithered to safety.

… I'm fine… no, really

It burned, like the flames of hell it burned, like the breath of dragons it burned, like a bad fart after a worse taco it BURNED!

"Open his mouth dear."

The flaming liquid slithered down his throat like a vindictive ashwinder. It was barely past the breathing tube when consciousness returned and he bolted upright, regretting the action instantly.

"Oh! What happened," he groaned, his head swimming in a lake of pudding… tapioca.

"You overdid it," said Nanny, the plump witch hovering over him with a steaming bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"Kali brought you in here," said Gabby, kneeling fretfully on his other side.

"Kali… the battle!"

"Whoa there boyo, easy," said Nanny when he tried, and failed, to get off the small cot they'd put him in. "The bulls are still out there, and the snake girl went back when she was sure we had you under control. Granny went with her."

"Granny?" Was that supposed to make him feel better.

"Now, I know we didn't give our best showing when we first met," the plump witch admitted, "but you just mind Granny. She's as tough as ironwood and twice as stubborn. They'll hold the line. Shouldn't be too hard, looks like you spooked 'em right good. Don't know if they saw you pass out, but they sure enough saw you toss that boar, rip those ladders and spit fire like a dragon."

"The ladders," he remembered, "they got onto the walls?"

"Aye."

Aye? That's all she had to say. "How many did we lose."

She didn't want to say, but Granny wasn't the only stubborn one and she sighed in defeat, "A few. Haven't got the count but I know a boar-man got up on the other side before you took the ladders. I know we lost a few a the pups."

"The goblins all made it through," said Gabby.

"That they did," said Nanny. "Wily little things. Should probably check up on'em."

"I'll go…"

"You! stay right where you are," the witch said with a mother's authority. "You can't even stand properly. You'll be of no use to anyone like this." Handing the bowl and the spoon to Gabby, "Make sure he eats this. There's more in the pot."

And with that said she waddled out of the room, now that he got a look, it appeared to be the barracks.

"She means well," said Gabby, mistaking his reticence for annoyance.

"They always do."

The half goblin smiled, spooned a bit of the steaming soup, and offered it to him.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I can feed myself."

And this may well have been the case, but that was not important. He knew it wasn't important because as soon as he said it, she began to pout. It was a mouthy pout with much to say, the jist of it being, shut up and eat the soup. Or else, while not said was strongly implied.

Despite his condition he was still confident he could overpower her. Although following that branching track led to several places, all of which left him feeling like a crumb, or a cad, in one rather risqué case.

He shut up and eat the soup.


	39. Chapter 38

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 38 – After midnight

…

Hogwarts, late evening… very late evening.

It was time, time to go, time to flee, time to escape.

She scurried through the halls, a paranoid rat abandoning a sinking ship. It was time, she knew it was time. There wasn't much that could really recommend Dolores Jane Umbridge. She was middling at magic, not especially charismatic, absolutely appalling on a personal level, cowardly, cruel, and completely without scruples.

When you got right down to it, the only thing that made Dolores Umbridge in any way useful was her organizational skills, which were only just higher than average and certainly did not make up for the other deficiencies in her personality. What did make up for them was her instinct, the survival instinct to be precise.

Dolores knew a lost cause when she saw it. She knew when she had pushed her luck too far. When she'd had the full force of the Ministry of Magic behind her, there was no limit, no push too far nor depth too deep. All were at her mercy and she reveled in such power, the kind of power she could never alone hope to accumulate.

That power was gone now, all of it, and her one attempt to recapture the next closest thing had led to her current situation. It was time to run, she knew it was. That survival instinct, the one that determined fight or flight, was screaming with a bullhorn, FLIGHT!

It wasn't that she couldn't fight, she certainly could. It was just winning she couldn't manage. Middling was probably generous. The most taxing thing she'd done, magically, in recent years revolved around shuffling papers. That was not going to save her from a trained and practicing transfiguration master with a vindictive streak and a bone to pick.

She'd found the old Scot's detestation rather amusing at first, when she was in control. Now it was far less entertaining, when the woman was preparing to do things to her she'd rather not think about.

She had to get out, run, as fast as she could. She didn't have a plan for what came after that, but so long as she was alive, there would be plenty of time to plan later.

The exit was near. Three more halls and she'd be at the door.

She scurried from cover and crept down the hall. Her entire body freezing as a chill ran up her spine when a presence made itself known.

"Good evening, Dolores."

… Black and shadow

"Good evening, wizard."

Harry nodded to the soppy witch Marigold as he slowly walked out of the tower and onto the wall. Gabby followed close behind, frowning. She hadn't wanted him to come up, but after a rest and three bowls of soup, she hadn't been strong enough to stop him.

"We're all still here. I assume we weren't overrun," said Harry, looking across the wall, returning nods from both goblins and kobolds.

"There were a few small tries," she said. "Mostly they were trying to knock down those burning ladders. Granny threw a few fireballs at them. Other than that, they've haven't moved far from their encampment."

"Odd," and worrisome.

"They're doing something," she said. "It's hard to see from here, but I think its some sort of ritual."

"What will that do," rituals were not a branch of magic taught at Hogwarts, at least not to him.

"I'm not sure, but it's probably something dark. It's a double full moon tonight. The shadows are at their longest."

Whatever that meant. Probably something important.

"Their reaching across the planes, through the darkness," a familiar caustic voice said.

He turned, expecting the old witch, and saw something else which almost made him go for his sword. The face that was his own smirked, having no need to sense his distress with it written clear across his face.

A hand was raised, a ring removed, and his doppelganger disappeared, replaced by the proper owner of the voice. "Good evening, wizard."

"Granny," he scowled. "What a convenient bit of magic."

"It has its uses," she agreed, momentarily pleasant as she preened over her little victory. "It seemed a good idea after that display of yours to have your face remain at the front line where all could see it. Let them believe you are more powerful than you really are. The invincible wizard they took you for."

"That's what ya call headology," said Nanny, waddling up to join them.

The minotaur and naga followed close behind. The gate was closed for the night and it seemed everyone had decided to congregate around Harry who had become far more interested in the strange sounds from the enemy encampment and strange flashes of, what he could only call darkness darker than darkness.

"Ritual, reaching across planes, but to what end?" he said.

"It's a calling," said Nanny. "They're calling something."

"What? A demon?"

"Possibly. Lot of things on other planes. Lot of other things between them planes that's just as terrible, maybe more."

"Darkness," said Granny. "Endless darkness full of hungry shadows."

Hungry shadows? Why did that sound familiar?

"It's big! It's big!"

the frantic owl cried fitfully as she swooped in. Bumping his face, she latched onto his shoulder followed close behind by a very distraught fairy.

"What's big Heddy?"

"Circle! Big circle! Big thing in the circle!" she said, hopping erratically from on foot to the other.

"Heddy, you're not making any sense. Slow down. Easy."

Gently he stroked her feathers, trying to calm her as she squeezed in close to his head as possible. Cherry, in similar straights, had nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the four wisps that normally orbited her body clung tight to the tiny girl.

"Tell me what you saw. You said a circle. What about the circle. What are they doing?"

"Standing. Chanting. Lots of them. And… and, something, something in the circle. Something big."

"What does it look like?"

"Looks like water, churning, but not water. Black and thick."

"Shadow," said Granny. "They're summoning shadows."

"Shadows? Plural? How many?" said Harry.

"Hard to say," said Nanny. "They're not terrible strong, the little ones, but they are hard to kill. Course, might not be more than one, and if that's the case…"

"What? If that's the case what!" he demanded.

"We are in a lot of trouble," said Marigold.

"Small shadows are just hungry beasts," Nanny explained, "But the big ones; hunger equivalent to its size, all in a single creature."

"What do they eat?"

"Light," said Marigold. "The light that exists in all living things. Especially things like her."

The fairy tensed at the accusing finger, weeping in her small tinkling way against Harry's neck as the epiphany struck. "Those things I saved you from when we first met. That's what's out there. That's what their summoning, isn't it?"

The tiny girl pulled her face away from him, turning up eyes, dripping tears. She nodded, straining to do so. A pitiful sound passing her lips, she pressed back in and began crying in earnest.

… Goodbye, and good riddance

"Minerva!"

"Dolores."

The stoic Scot stared at the quivering toad with a cold even gaze, the sort she usually reserved for naughty children. Given the woman's mental state it had a similar effect.

"WHAT ARE… hem, hem. What are you doing, Minerva?"

"I could ask you the same question," she replied.

"I asked you first, "she retorted a little too quickly.

"Yes, you did. What of it?"

The toad scowled, her bluff called. They both knew what she was doing and knew they both knew they both knew… they both knew?

Everyone knew what was going on and any questions or accusations were merely stalling. Pride alone stayed them from action. Pride, and the audience they'd somehow acquired without them realizing it.

"Well, well, fancy meeting you girls here."

The blue man strode with the confidence of one who was in complete control. The small retinue that followed in his wake may have had something to do with that.

"Master Co," Umbridge squealed, backing away in fear, jumping when she nearly backed into McGonagall. "What brings you out so late?"

"Nothing much," the blue man said. "Seemed like a nice night for a walk. But what about you Dolores. Getting antsy are we?"

His teasing, if that's what it was, made the unctuous woman shake.

"No, no, nothing like that," she tried weakly.

"Now, don't be modest Dolores," McGonagall cut in. "No reason to hide your eagerness."

There damn well was, the stout woman thought, and it was circling her like a cat with a mouse.

"Spose I shouldn't be surprised," said Co. "Expecting you to wait so long. Thoughtless of me. Absolutely thoughtless."

"No, no, it's really not…" she continued to try.

"No! I see how it is. Nothing for it really. We'll just have the duel now."

"WHAT!"

"Yes, right now, that's the ticket. Filius!"

The diminutive man stepped from behind the blue one, "You called?"

"Yes, I believe we discussed having you officiate this little match. If you would be so kind."

"Of course, my lord."

None watching missed the hint of vindictive glee with which the small man went about his task. The hall made for an easily assembled dueling ring. Shields quickly placed at both ends and the two combatants were asked to face each other.

Trapped like a rat, she had no choice, facing the old Scot who stared back, unreadable.

"On the count of three, you may cast," said Flitwick. "One, two…"

"Bombarda!"

The concussive spell, one of the few genuine attack spells she knew, flew past her opponent who did not so much as flinch at the pitiful misfire but raised a single eyebrow.

"Really?" The incredulity cut deep. "Maybe you'd care to try again."

Terrified beyond reason, she pushed a face of anger at the perceived arrogance, letting terror bolster it with her next spell, "Bombarda Maxim!"

This one flew true, 'forcing' McGonagall to react. A quick motion of her wand swatted the spell away with contemptuous ease.

"Again?"

Now beyond able to think, she began flinging spells with wild abandon, anything that came to mind was muttered and hurled. McGonagall dodged around the hastily flung spells, swatting aside those that got too close as she worked her way closer, forcing the panicked Umbridge back, step by step.

"Don't give up Dolores," Co cheered helpfully.

She didn't even register his words as mutters became screams and the trail of spells got darker and darker. "CRUCIO!"

The torture curse was poorly aimed and easily dodged but it marked a shift in the fight and McGonagall found she'd played enough; it was time to start teaching.

A slight gesture moved one of the armors that thrust outs its arm, smacking Umbridge in the back of the head. Falling forward, she stumbled then toppled, crashing to the floor which she found to be oddly soft.

Under McGonagall's work it was, soft, squishy, and pliant. Into the floor her wand was shoved, but when she tried to pull it out, the floor solidified, trapping her magical tool in the floor.

"NO! No, no, no!" she cried, pulling and yanking but to no avail.

"How does it feel, Dolores?" said McGonagall.

"No! Come on! Let go damn you!" she shrieked, ignoring the woman stalking toward her.

"How does it feel, Dolores?" she asked again. Receiving no answer, she flung the woman away from her wand to get her attention. "How does it feel, Dolores? How does it feel, to be helpless?"

"You," the stout woman whined, rolling painfully off her back. "You can't do this."

"Why not? If you were in my position, you'd do far worse. How does it feel to be on the other end for a change? How does it feel to be at the mercy of someone who hates you?"

The venom in her tone struck something primal in the toad like woman, "Please," she begged, simpering pitifully, "Please. I'm sorry."

"Yes, sorry you lost," said McGonagall, not for a second fooled. "Sorry you lost your power, your position, your privilege. Sorry you spent all your time making enemies instead of friends."

"Please… please, I'm sorry," she begged.

McGonagall stopped, the click of her heels echoing the hall, "I'm sorry too," she said, causing Umbridge to look up in shock. "I'm sorry I was too much a coward to deal with you as I ought to have when you first arrived. I'm sorry I let you pollute my home with your presence for so long. And I'm sorry, so sorry, I let you hurt my children for your petty little games. And I am especially sorry, that I can only kill you once."

Fear filled her eyes, but McGonagall's wand was faster than her brain. She felt something in her face, her nose she thought, shift in some subtle way. It itched when she inhaled, then the itching stopped, and her entire head exploded into bony shrapnel and gooey chunks.

"Oh, my!" Co exclaimed. "Well done Minerva."

"What was that?" asked Flitwick. "I saw it, but I couldn't make out what you did to her."

"Nothing much," said McGonagall, wiping off bits of brain matter. "I just turned the inside of her nose to white phosphorous and let nature takes it course."

Behind the shield, and thus safe from the gore, the blue man chuckled. "Congratulations Minerva. You have secured your position for the foreseeable future."

The stoic old woman gave a slight bow to her new master, "I hope that I shall be found worthy."

"Of that I have little doubt," the blue man said with a knowing look, "Little doubt indeed."

… Shine a light

The wall was getting crowded as everyone from both sides huddle together on the right. Out on the field, a massive oozing thing was taking shape. A darkness so dark it seemed to make a hole in the world, not merely dark but entirely devoid of light.

There was a sense, deeper than reason or human knowing, of being watched. It was primal, instinct, it ran deep, past the primordial ooze and back to before life as is understood came to be.

The little ones hadn't felt like that.

"We're dead," said Marigold. "We don't have anything that can fight that."

The kobolds whimpered, fear and hopelessness gripping them as their only anchor declared it was no use.

"It's been a good run," said Boren without a hint of regret.

"Meh, coulda been better," said Charlie.

"You give up so easily," Kali said.

"They said we've got nothing that can fight that," Boren argued.

"They said 'they' had nothing that could fight that," she corrected. "What about him?"

'Him' was staring at the liquid mass taking form and feeling strangely calm. The terror meter had been pushed so far around it had broken through and gone back to zero. It reminded him of the second time he'd fought a dragon. Now if only this were so easy to deal with.

His Patronus, big bad buck that it was, was dwarfed by the creature summoned which was beginning to look vaguely canine. There weren't enough happy thoughts in his head to produce a Patronus powerful enough to win a fight against such a thing, though that wouldn't stop him from trying. It was better than just giving up, but it wasn't enough. He needed something better than just better than giving up.

Power was really the problem. There was a huge circle of mages down there powering the spell to summon that thing. He was just one Harry, and he wasn't even a fully rested Harry. Sure, he could get away with a lot on little sleep, but miracles were not among them.

"What would it take to fight it?" Gabby asked when the silence became too heavy.

"A powerful avatar of light," said Granny. "Concentrated positive energy is the only thing that can really hurt a shadow. They are composed of every kind of darkness."

"Is there no other way we can hurt it?" the half-goblin asked.

"Think happy thoughts," Nanny offered, causing Granny to scoff.

"Oh really, don't be ridiculous."

"Actually," said Harry, "that's not a bad idea."

"Hah!"

The old witch glowered at her crowing counterpart, but Harry ignored both of them. An idea was forming and, like most of his best ideas, there was a good chance it wouldn't work, but he wasn't about to let that stop him.

"Cherry, I need your help."

Gently he pealed the tiny girl from his neck, causing her to cling and wail like a frightened infant.

"Now, no more of that. I know you're scared, so am I. But we can't let that stop us, and I need your help."

The glowing girl continued to whimper. He could never know the depths of her fears, even were she able to speak words he could decipher.

"Come on now. You know I would never put you in danger. I need your help, or we're all done for. Come on, where's my big brave girl."

With the gentlest touch he wiped the tears from her cheeks, earning a small wet smile and a kiss on the pinky.

"There she is. I knew I'd find her."

Whispering his instructions, she floated from his hands and up over their heads.

"Everyone! Gather round!" he shouted.

Most already were but those that weren't quickly bunched in as close as they could.

"Listen carefully. Out there, a darkness approaches. It is a hungry darkness, it will devour all of us if we let it. We could try to run, we could try to hide, but I tell you this. There are no legs fast enough nor hole deep enough to escape this darkness. We must stand and fight."

"Well that's a lovely sentiment, but how exactly are we supposed to do that?" the old witch sniped.

"I'm glad you asked that," said Harry, cheered by stony scowl. "Everyone, close your eyes. Don't be scared, just close your eyes."

With the hungry dark so close there was understandable fear but slowly they all did so.

"Now, I want you all to think back. Think of a time when you were happy, and not just happy, but the happiest you've ever been in your life."

"Oh honestly," Granny griped.

"Shh!" Marigold hushed.

"Find that time, that memory, that feeling. It doesn't even have to be real, just find that memory that fills you with the greatest joy, the happiest feeling."

A heavy feral sound suddenly shook the wall, but Harry pressed on despite the whimpers and cries.

"Ignore the outside world. There is no here and now. Focus! Focus on the joy. Feel that happiness, the warmth and comfort. Find that feeling and let it fill you. Let it swell inside you."

Overhead, Cherry flew one long continuous circle over all of them. Her glowing drew a trail as she flew faster and faster making a shimmering ring that encompassed all of them.

Something palpable seemed to coalesce as Harry continued to encourage them, raising his wand which glowed at the tip, a warm gentle spark, "now."

The incantation, those two familiar words were drown out by the loudest light ever conjured. It exploded like a brand-new sun, taking form and striding proudly into the world, its noble gait such as to be the envy of any king.

Its long face was elegant and handsome. To count its prongs, one would have found a single point for every soul standing on the wall. Eyes opened and reveled at the sight, its handsome face, impressive rack, its regal hindquarters.

"By the gods!"

"Holy heifer!"

"Good grief!"

There he is, Harry thought, Prongs. It felt wrong to think of his conjuring as a mere Patronus. His first casting in this world had shown a number of differences he hadn't been able to quantify at the time but here, and now, when the shimmering deer turned its head, and looked at him, he began to understand.

The kobolds didn't understand but they howled anyway, leaping and yipping in joy.

The shadow thing roared again, shaking the world and Prongs replied with a high shrieking call, normally the sort to be offensive to the ears but taken from those lips it filled them with elation, their rejoicing doubled.

"It's… it's amazing," said Gabby, wholly awestruck.

Even Granny looked impressed, though if asked later she would absolutely deny it.

But it was true, it was amazing and more. He glowed like a star come down to earth. A light to fill the corners and chase the shadows back where they came from.

"Now what?" asked Nanny, as the opposing avatars squared up.

Harry smiled, "Now, we let them fight."


	40. Chapter 39

Heroes of Magic and Might  
Chapter 39 – The longest day

…

Flash! Shadow! Scream and roar. Light wavered and pushed against the dark in furious starbursts. Shadows roared and rallied to fall again in sudden streams of invasive light.

"Ugh! Stupid sun," he grumbled as sleep and dream faded into morning.

"Well, the dead rises and the vampire's not even here. You do not know your limits my lad. That's going to get you yet."

He glared at the old witch but made no argument. He'd only just woken and was in no state to be battling wits with anyone, never mind someone like Granny.

"It worked."

The mighty Prongs had done him proud, tearing the great shadow fiend to ribbons before his power was spent, executing in a brilliant flash that must have been seen halfway around the planet.

"Aye, it worked. You pulled it out of your arse, but it worked. What else ya got up there?"

He should have expected this from Granny, but that didn't mean he was in any mood to take it. "You're just sore it didn't spend so much effort fighting you."

The old witch scoffed, "Lot a things I'm sore about, but that ain't one of'em."

One of those things must have had her attention or she just didn't find him to be worth looking at. The old witch stared out past the wall; a small spyglass pressed to one eye. That was new.

"Where'd you get that?" Harry asked, using the wall of the tower as support to haul himself to his feet.

"The little man you have watching the gate," she replied. "Come look."

Annoyed at being ordered he none the less obeyed. Taking the spyglass and placing it to one magically corrected eye. "What am I looking for?"

"Round near the middle there, the ritual circle."

It was a mess. The bodies of dead Ashe were tossed carelessly aside away from the circle as those still alive conjured and chanted. There were only seven within the circle, a pittance compared with those already spent.

"Caused a bit of a mess last night," he remarked. "Are they trying to summon another shadow?"

"In broad daylight? I should think not," the old witch said but in a way that seemed to mock him. "Anyway, there aren't enough left to do what they did last night. Most of them are probably dead from the summoning. That kinda beast steals more than just power."

"So what are they summoning now?"

"Won't know that till it's here. Ashe love their monsters, or anything else they can enslave. Surprised you don't know that."

Her disdain dripped from every word and ground his gears like oil in reverse. "My one experience with the Ashe consisted of my assault, abduction, attempted rape, assisted escape, and the pursuit following, most of which I slept through," he said. "I learned little in that time except that I did not like them, and at present I lack the time to learn anything more about them before I am forced to fight it… whatever it may be.

"With that in mind, I'm doing my best and will continue to, and that would be much easier with a little less attitude from you."

"You're askin fur something she cannot give you lad."

The tension eased slightly with the appearance of the plump witch, "Where have you been?" said Granny.

"Looking through the heap," she said. "I found that old cauldron we stopped using when we got the bigger one."

It was small enough she could carry it, but big enough to be a hassle and she quickly set it down. Pulling out a tripod she hefted the heavy cooking accoutrement and plopped it on top, beaming proudly.

"There! Get this up and cooking we ought to be able to throw around a few bigger spells when the time comes."

"You're forgetting to even get it to start you'll need to fill it half full of pure water," Granny reminded.

"I can get's water," Nanny said.

"Yes, but not pure water. The only water sources nearby are hours away. We'll be engaged well before that happens."

"I've got water," Harry said, his exhaustion telling in the quiet of his voice.

"You alright lad?" Nanny asked. "You look like you could use a bit more rest."

"Rest isn't a luxury I can afford right now," he said, opening his pack and pulling out the old sherry bottle which clinked as he lifted it.

Addressing the *clink* he pulled out the other one and set it on the ground by the pack before going to the cauldron and carefully filling it halfway.

"Well, that looks pure to me," Nanny observed.

"Magically purified," said Harry.

"That one too?" she asked, gesturing at the other.

"Sort of," he said. "Magically purified anyway. That one's full of water sprites. Not sure how many. I pulled them out of a polluted river. Wasn't sure what to do with them so I left them in there."

"Them's might be useful in a pinch. Oh! There it goes."

A fire had started of its own accord beneath the cauldron, but Harry hardly noticed the feat. His mind was focused on the bottle, the one not in his hand. Smashing it would release everything contained within, but just how much was in there? He didn't know.

It would be a risk, but under the right circumstances.

Corking the regular water bottle, he put it back in his pack before turning his attention to the other. He'd need some way to carry it, like the twine wrapped around the mana potion flask. That thought brought him to another, that being his current available magical power.

He felt weak, exhausted, poorly rested.

Taking a deep breath, he layered on a full physical enhancement, and cringed at the warning orange glow, "That's not good."

His magic was low. His poor sleep and excessive casting had run him close to the bottom and worse, his use of the mana potion had burned off what little fat stores he had. He could feel his ribs, even see them. He was playing a very dangerous game.

A cacophony from the field drew everyone's attention and they rushed to the edge to see what wickedness had been wrought.

"Well, that's not good," the usually acerbic witch said softly.

"Looks like it took it out of'em though. There's three—no, four, four of'em down," said Nanny, trying to remain optimistic.

Harry was impressed. He was finding it near impossible to think anything positive, "Of all the things I thought I would see today, this was not on the list. Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a three headed hydra, then yes," said Nanny.

"Damn!" he'd been hoping it was his imagination.

Giving the flask one last look, he popped the cork and slugged down the remains.

"I'm going to need food, now," he said sharply. "And I need someone to tie all this around 'that' bottle, and quickly. They won't leave that thing sitting there long, we haven't much time."

… Do you have the time?

"I've been thinking a great deal about time. It's such a strange thing, don't you think Puppy. For me, who ostensibly has all the time in the world, and yet I can't help but feel rushed. While these lizard folk, they walk around like they've got all day to do anything, and they barely live forty years. Time is running away from them and they just sit there and watch it go. I ask you, does that make any sense?"

The black furred wolf looked at his master and whined pitifully, philosophically speaking.

"I know, I know. It's not your fault. My mind goes to strange places when I get bored, and I am BORED!"

She was also worried about Harry, but that wasn't something she'd admit to out loud, on the off chance he'd hear about it later and start getting ideas.

The boredom was nearly just as bad anyway and much easier to complain about. She could have been bothering corpses, but her book was back at the tower in Harry's pack, leaving her nothing to do but wait, and wait… and wait.

"It's funny, usually I'm very patient."

Fortunately, a large lizardman came stomping out of the hut she was sitting by, saving her from herself.

"I see our negotiations are going well."

Hamma snarled, his legs eating up distance that made it hard to keep up. Luckily, the wolf was a marathoner and Rosebud was a very light burden.

"Still won't budge?"

"NO! The fat old fool. In fact, he forbids it, says we can't afford anyone leaving until the other hunting parties return."

It was a surprise revelation to discover their party was the first to return, especially given all the trouble they'd had getting back. Hamma was sure the others would have returned first; finding out they hadn't was a shock, and more than that, an annoyance. He'd wanted those forces as part of his return party.

"It's more than just the other hunters not being back, isn't it?"

The lizardman growled. "He hasn't the claw for this fight, or any other. He's grown fat and soft. This isolation is just cowardice."

"You are sure?"

The lizardman stopped, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said the vampire, "if you truly think him a coward, if you think he hasn't the claw for a fight, well, that does leave us one alternative. Tell me, did you just now begin thinking this."

"No," he said. "And I know I'm not the only one who does."

"Then perhaps, the time has come for a new strategy," the vampire grinned, with teeth.

… Last resorts

"ON YOUR LEFT!"

"I see it!"

A fearsome swing and a roar of "GOEDENDAG!" the spiked club weapon smashed the hydra's head as it moved to strike the minotaur. Another head saw the opening and lashed out only to be clubbed by the mighty swing of Charlie's mallet, stunning the head and causing the whole beast to reel.

"Pull back!" Harry ordered. "They're trying to get around him!"

The orc's swarmed into the opening created by the hydra staggering back from Harry's makeshift walls. The crude transfiguration was proving its worth now, narrowed to the point the hydra could barely squeeze in, and too high now to simply climb over, even if the spikes on top didn't make it a thorny proposition.

The Ashe had come shortly after the arrival of the hydra, pressing all fronts with wave after wave of seemingly endless orcs. Boar-men mixed in made things more dangerous but mostly for the defenders on the wall. Those on the ground had their own concerns.

"He's coming again!"

The hydra was a mad, crazed beast. In the beginning there'd been an Ashe on its back, controlling it. They'd killed him, because it was, again, that rare male Ashe Harry hadn't realized there was till confronting Lyraka.

Upon his death the creature let loose a feral scream and charged, and that had been the fight for nearly two hours. Kali had made the mistake of taking a head early on, not knowing the hydra's mythic power till two new heads swiftly grew in place of the missing one and tried to take a bite out of her.

It wasn't just pure decapitation either. Tearing damage from Boren's Goedendag had proved sufficient to trigger the event as well, a lesson they'd learned the hard way. Fortunately, without its rider the creature was as dangerous to friend as foe, since it didn't appear to differentiate.

It did hiss though, a sound Harry understood in a way the others didn't, not even Kali for some reason, though this hardly made a difference. It wasn't saying anything coherent, proving it was entirely mad and beyond reasoning with.

"Charlie! Go for the body!"

The ox minotaur lunged under a pair of striking heads and slammed his mallet into the beast's chest. It staggered, all the heads flailing in mutual pain.

Taking advantage, Harry threw a binding rope that wrapped around all the heads as they stood up flailing. It wouldn't hold them long, it hadn't the last three times, but it would buy them a moment to breath which was the best they could hope for.

He wasn't using a full enhancement, merely keeping his eyes clear to conserve his power. The mana potion had helped, but he was still low and couldn't cast left, right, and center like he'd been doing. It was for this reason he had yet to employ the herculean strategy used to kill the mythical Lernaean hydra.

He was too tired to properly control the fire and with his comrades so close he couldn't risk it. Besides, the hydra was nearly as much a help as it was a danger.

Breaking the binding rope, the heads snapped at anything within reach. Several orc's standing too close lost heads, arms, and various other necessary parts while the two minotaur stood back and let it thrash while the naga coiled near Harry, waiting.

"The fight is not going well," she opined as the hydra once again forcing itself into the wedge to get at the minotaur.

"I can't use fire with them so close, and they can't fall back fast enough without it chasing after them. The walls are slowing it but if it had space, I'm sure it could make the distance quick enough."

"Why don't you squeeze the walls together then?" she asked. "You said this was just transformation, you could do that."

Yes, he could, now that she mentioned it, and he felt a little dumb for not realizing it himself sooner. Although…

"Why squeeze, when you can pin."

He went through all the motions of wand and incantation, everything to conserve his power and maximize the effect. The wall shifted slightly then rapidly grew long, thick spikes that punched into the sides of the many headed serpent creature.

The hydra wailed, a high, screeching, horrible sound. It clawed the ground, trying to move, but the spikes were to long and sturdy, as was its own flesh. The hydra was stuck, but just for good measure, Harry spiked its feet as well before calling back his bull boys.

"What did you do?" asked Boren.

"Spikes out of the walls."

"Good grief," said Charlie.

"So it's stuck?" Harry nodded. "Now what?" the spike club bull asked.

"Now we see how he reacts to fire."

Blue flame streamed from his wand, coating the enraged beast who flew into a panic at the sight of flame. The blue fire alighted all over its body, it's necks, even some of the heads, all of which began screaming and wailing.

"Pretty," Boren remarked. "Why don't it smell like it's burning."

"Because it's not," said Harry. "Bluebell flame is weird like that. You can hold it in your hand, keep it in a jar, there aren't many things it will burn."

"He don't seem to know that," said Charlie.

"I was curious to see how he would react," said Harry. "I've seen enough. Kali, take the heads, one at a time. I'll burn the stumps as you go. You two be ready."

The orcs were packed in behind the fear mad beast. As soon as it was no longer a threat, they were sure to swarm over the carcass. Lost in the throws of sheer terror, the hydra did not so much as flinch when Kali took the first head and Harry seared the wound closed.

They carefully went from head to head, expecting the creature to turn on them at any moment. It never did. Flooded with fear it didn't even register the pain of having its heads chopped and burned, not even when the last was taken and sealed did it show the slightest attention.

The orcs were paying attention though, and just as Harry feared; the last head was barely sealed before the first one came squealing over, its axe raised to cut the wizard down.

Kali was quicker and took the pig to pieces in four consecutive strokes. That was her only easy kill. The rest came as horde, like locust. Harry managed a single stroke of his sword before he was knocked back by the mass of bodies.

Boren and Charlie surged into the mass, weapons swinging, horns goring. Kali was lost beneath the crush.

Scrambling to find his feet, Harry flailed between stomping feet and swinging weapons. Several close calls forced him to apparate, zipping back halfway to the gate where he knew he wouldn't crash into anyone. He almost did anyway when an orc who'd braved his wall fell off after getting his feet caught on the spikes.

The squealing body nearly hit him as he appeared, and he stumbled to the ground yet again.

"Dammit. DAMMIT!"

Everything was happening too quickly. He couldn't keep up, and his friends were in danger.

Something exploded on the wall and he saw a host of bodies go flying, along with several ladders. He hadn't the strength for anything like that. And even if he did, the minotaur were in the thick of the fight and he couldn't even see Kali.

"Dammit!"

He only had one trump card left, and as he saw more orcs swarming over the headless hydra corpse, he knew he had to play it.

"HOLD YOUR BREATH!" he screamed, hoping they'd hear.

Snatching at the bottle, he sliced through the cord holding it, raised it high, then brought it crashing down against his sword.

The bottle cracked, then explode into a twenty-foot wave that towered over the swarming swine before crashing down like a hammer to an anvil. Over the sound of breaking water, something like the screams of furies echoed and Harry saw vague shapes, even as he himself was swept up in the backwash and hurled over the hydra and into the field.

The world tossed and turned, then suddenly righted as something took hold of him and gently lifted him above water.

It took a moment to regain the enhancement on his eyes as he'd lost concentration in the wave. When he did, he was shocked to see a watery visage staring at him, an impish smile playing at her lips.

"Hello," she burbled sweetly.

"Uh, hi."

Stupefied, he watched as dozens of others swam around him in a small lake being held together by, what he could only assume was the water sprites themselves.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Uh, more or less. Are you alright?"

She tittered at the question which Harry felt was unfair. They had tried to drown him the last time he was this close to one of them.

"You healed us, cleaned us," the sprite said. "We have been watching, watching from the bottle."

"You could see from in there?"

She nodded.

"Cor!"

His exclamation pleased her for some reason, and she came in close to nuzzled him. "We will help you fight. We saved your friends, now we help you fight."

She was true to her word. Boren and Charlie were already standing again, and Kali was slithering through the water in his direction.

"You'll fight?"

The sprite nodded, "You save us, now we save you. We fight. We keep wizard safe."

Her words were simple, but he couldn't help but feel moved. Moved, and worried. The Ashe had wizards as well. Would they know how to fight water sprites? Just how much could the aqueous maidens stand up to.

The fight wasn't over, not by far. And with his last trump played, he wondered just how much longer they would last.


End file.
